Chlorine
by Darth Bubbles 16985214
Summary: There is a prophecy, for Harry Potter with no being willing to help him. So he shall be championed by Death, and in return champion Death as its Master. But how shall he deal with the major players? MoD!Harry Dark!Harry Necromancer!Harry Evil!Harry Powerful!Harry rated M for violence, and liberal use of Fiendfyre *Hiatus while I focus on Blood Runes*
1. Chapter 1

_Death, is only the beginning..._

_-The Mummy_

Chapter 1. The Puppet Master

In the course of human events, in the struggles and conflicts between man and god, there has been a puppetmaster. He watches from the shadows, able to step outside of time and space to observe, occasionally stepping in to fix events to his liking. He is feared by all, for he has infinite power and no being would ever understand him. He views all of history, time itself his plaything. He is the power in the shadows, the threat of the unknown which no being can comprehend. He is feared by all the peoples he has met. He has been known as Moros, and Mot to the Earthlords and Archon's. And the Elders, Gods to man have fashioned him a name and reputation. To the Elders he is Marethyu. To the immortal humani he is the hook-handed man. And to the Human race, he is Death.

And now he looks at the timeline, traveling to a point where the future is uncertain and has yet to be shaped. He travels through time, space, and reality itself as black auric sparks run down the Hook of Time. It is October 31st, 1981. Marethyu can feel the Tapestry of Fate being woven by those who dictate the future. They are known by many names, for the Greeks named them the Moirai, and called them Lachesis, Clotho, and Atropos, and they were known to the Norse as the Norns, Urd Verdandi and Skuld. For they are the last of the Protogenoi, Forerunners of Existance, living in a sealed Shadow Realm deep beneath the Yggdrasil, and existing outside of time Wheels of Destiny have been set in motion and a prophecy has been made, binding the future into one ending.

Death muses to himself as he is cloaked and comforted in his black aura, no longer the pure gold that was once Josh Newman.

_The game, is to influence the prophecy into what is best for the boy Harry. For all others shall seek to use him and destroy him, as there are no neutral parties. None stay neutral, save myself and one immortal. I sense that he shall change his Fate, and defy the Moirai, and successfully evade death itself. And I shall champion him among the Gods and Monsters, and he shall be the immortal Master of Death, and my Champion Among the Human race. As his mentor, I shall assign that one immortal which has successfully defied all of the Elders. The one immortal who cannot die. The immortal founder of the wizarding race, who had the last laugh at fate._

_The game is set. The die has been cast and the gambit has been taken. The Gameboard is clear, and I shall move all the players into position._

Marethyu feeds a crackle of his familiar black aura into his Hook, absently noting the sour tangy scent of his aura, matter decaying and turning to dust in the endless ravages of time. The black aura drips into a scrying pool in the center of a darkened room. The aura twists and clouds the water, like smoke in the wind, until the water is black as night. In it are scenes moving too quickly for a normal person to catch sight of.

_The Dark Lord Voldemort walks down the lane of Godric's Hollow, late at night on Halloween, otherwise known as All Hallows Eve. The irony of that does not escape Marethyu. Tom Riddle will need attention for he has attained immortality, as well as possessing the Resurrection scene whirls and changes to Albus Dumbledore, who muses in his office on the morality of his actions regarding the Fidelius. He will be interesting to watch, as he was an apprentice of Nicolas Flamel and Master of not only eanded magic, but also the currant Master of the Elder Wand. Once again the irony of the name is noted. Nicolas Flamel hides in the small house across the street from an orphanage, forever on the lookout for children who might fulfill his prophecy, though it is still too early for him to go to America and find the Newman's. His wife Perenelle stands beside him, looking at the Codex of Abraham the Mage. Though they don't look it, nor know it, the Alchemist and the Sorceress will be the most powerful players on the side of light. The scene changes to a office building with a short man with gray hair and a goatee. The Queen's Man shall be a champion of the Darkness and a useful tool to play against the Light. Dr. John Dee and his associate Niccolo Machiavelli will be most useful indeed. And finally the intended mentor for young Harry. A rumpled homeless immortal in the streets of London. One who once was called Merlin, and thousands of other names. Advisor to King Arthur, Ruler, Teacher, Warrior. The first immortal and indeed the First Human, born of the knowledge of the Archon's and the aura of Prometheus, Gilgamesh the King sleeps on the side of the road._

All has been readied, all has come into alignment. The lip of Josh Newman curled upwards.

Let The Games Begin...

**AN-First fanfic ever, I hope I have a good premise for this story. If anyone wants to give me advice, please review. I'm writing this mostly out of frustration of the lack of master of death stories and the alchemist HP crossovers all suck... So... Write some, at least 50k. Please? It would make me very happy.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing.**

_What is death, but the cure to life..._

**Chapter 2 - The Black Queen Falls**

Clouds swirl and dance on the night sky, sprinkled with stars and a full moon peeks out. Fairies and wisps play in the grass circles, leaves rustle and dance, unstirred by wind. The turning of the heavens aligns and the very fabric of the universe tenses as it brush's the barriers between worlds. Shadows grow long and dark and the shades of being long dead walk the earth between the Shadow Realms. On this night, of October 31, 1981, on this the day of All Hallows Eve, the Game shall begin. A prophecy shall be fulfilled and the players make their move. All around the world, prophets and immortals can feel that telltale tingle up the back of their spine, that says, "History shall be made tonight." For tonight, the last night of October, the Black Queen shall fall, and the Gray Pawn shall rise, to be commanded by the hidden Player.

A black cloak slithers across the grass of the cottage in Godrics Hallow. A bone white wand is pointed at the keyhole of the house. In the windows, a chuckling black-haired man uses his wand to amuse a toddler with colored puffs of smoke. The door creaks open, and bloody red eyes glare from the endless darkness of the night.

"Lily it's him, take Harry and run! I'll try to hold him off." Shouts James Potter. He backpedals in the face of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and lunges for his wand on the table.

"Avada Kedavra!" Whispers Voldemort, his voice hissing like a snake in his irritation. The flash of green light blasts James into the wall, where he lay staring with glassy eyes, never to see again.

Lord Voldemort steps over the overturned furniture, casually making his way to the stairs. He walks up, the stairs creaking like a ominous warning.

"No not Harry, have mercy, take me instead!" Cried Lily Potter, with emerald green eyes and scarlet hair.

Voldemort felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Stand aside you silly girl." He commanded, voice cutting through her pleading.

"No, not Harry please take me instead!"

_I suppose I will not be keeping my promise to Severus. Pity, it is a waste, she is truly talented. _

_"Avada Kedavra"_

He walked over and viewed the baby iin its cradle, waving a pudgy hand at the Dark Lord.

Unbidden, his recollection of the child's mother rose up, triggered by those emerald green eyes. Annoyance at her inane pleading rose up, evoking memories of the Orphanage, began to trigger a vicious cycle in the mind of the once Tom Riddle. Past the occulmency barriers, a sea of blood began curling in on itself, in a violent hurricane and whirlpools and riptides of anger and hate. And a hole opened up at the bottom of the sea of hate, and a whirlpool to rival all others sucked down negative emotions down into the magical core of Tom Riddle. His core curled and thrashed, and if any in the house were capable of sensing it, they would have seen the aura produced by the magical core, stained bloody red and black with hate and killing intent. A thread of power stretched from the core into his wand, and it was this tube that channeled the tidal wave of blood and hate. The wand filled with power, will and intent, the very air around Voldemort was charged with potential action. All that was needed, was the words to trigger it.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Unseen to all, Marethyu darted between the green bolt and the babe.

Time stopped.

"Not so fast. It is not your time to die yet, for you have a destiny, Harry Potter." Mutter Marethyu, as he carved a lightning bolt rune onto the forehead of the crying baby. Blood magic curled around the rune of protection, carved by the most powerful artifact in history, the Hook of Time and Reality. The Hook crackled with Marethyu's aura and ignited the fledgling aura of the baby. A choking green mist flowed out of the rune, fluctuating color with the emotions. The stench of chemical Chlorine, of pool water filled the air. A cold scent, metaphysically dead, in the feeling of something which has not known death, nor was ever alive in the first place. As Marethyu moved deeper into the emerald mist, the scent of chlorine strengthed, until the cold toxic uncaring mist pressed tightly enough to smother Death. And in the fog, Death sensed the aura, for it was the clinging toxic scent of chlorine, the darkened color of emeralds, an odd mixed feeling of frostbite and razor blades, and a high pitched inhuman keening, sharp like razors, unsettling as nails on a chalkboard. It was a sound that could never be forgotten, a sound to drive one into madness and even now Marethyu could feel it begining to reach and try to touch his mind. The auric powers of Harry Potter came alight and tryed to smother any threat.

"Oh yes, you will be perfect..."Murmured Marethyu. " Until we meet again, Master..."

Marethyu waved his hook. He vanished and time resumed.

A flash of green light flashed forward towards the babies forehead, and collided with the aura of young Harry Potter. The Killing Curse dispersed and became one with the auric cloud. For a split second, Harry's aura glowed green and brighter than the sun. Then in a combination of accidental magic and auric power, he blasted his entire aura back at Voldemort. The blast took so much power that it forced Harry's newly awakened powers back into dormancy, and the volatile combination of a killing curse turned into pure auric energy exploded. It hit Voldemort and forced him to accept the total magical backlash, which was so great that it created an explosion which leveled the house and incinerated Voldemort. His very soul was caught up and torn apart and the missing piece flew into Harry's head.

"Yes, you shall be most interesting indeed" were the last words an uncaring and uncomprehending Harry heard as he faded into black.

**REVIEW!PPLEASE! IM SO NERVOUS THIS IS MY FIRST FIC ARG!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I own nothing. Deal with it.**

_I intend to live forever, or die trying._

_Groucho Marx_

**Chapter 3-Forging a Weapon**

There is a dark room with a roaring fire, which throws ominous shadows onto the wall. The window is open, tattered drapes fluttering in the breeze. Despite the fire, the room is freezing. A faint hint of bitter sourness wafts through the room on the breeze. There is a man sitting in a chair, facing the fire. The chair is old and worn, with pock mocks on the arm. The man has not moved from the chair for 7 years.

*Tap*

*Tap*

*Tap*

The man taps on the arm of his chair, a glint of metal where the hand is supposed to be. Standing up, Marethyu makes decision.

_It is time, for me to take the boy, and move my little grey pawn onto the board. I will play this game fairly and by the rules. He must have a weapon. The problem is that it must be able to defeat a Hallow without being one. And yet Harry must seek out my Hallows and use them exclusively._

Frustrated, Death stands near the window and looks out. A Blood Moon shines over the wizarding world. A good omen. Merethyu begins pacing back and forth, only marginally comforted by the murmuring wisdom coming from the magic of his Hook. Suddenly, the hook-handed man stops.

_Ah, the perfect solution. It need not defeat a Hallow, only defeat their mortal incarnation. Once Harry gathers them, he will be able to unlock the Hallows as the Master of Death and then all other wands will become obsolete. Like King Arthur, who wielded the enchanted blade Caliburnis which he pulled from that legendary stone, and used in a quest to become worthy of Excalibor, the ultimate weapon gifted by the Lady of the Lake. But how to craft such an object... The materials of the Elder Wand are not so terribly powerful in their own right, tis only Elder and Threstral hair. No, it is the power of Death itself and the Hook used to carve it which lends it strength. But I dare not put my own power into it, lest it become a Hallow and chance destruction of the prophecy._

Frustrated, Marethyu began pacing again, trying to think of any objects which could be powerful enough to craft such a wand with. Swearing under his breath he crossed the room thrice, boots clicking, before he stopped.

_Aha, tis not so very hard a problem to solve. I wish it to have power, so I shall craft it of that most powerful artifact known to wizards. My first creation, to be found and used by the race of Human. Tainted and saturated with my power, yet not by any doing of mine personally, it shall work perfectly. And to complement it, I shall retrieve a branch from the oldest tree in the world, to triumph against another Elder.(Pun intended) I think I shall go to the Methuselah tree, not the Yggdrasil, for the former has survived in the world of humani, growing twisted and strong to survive under its own power and untainted by the power of any Elder. Nay, this tree of over 4000 years old shall by the symbol of strength, and perseverance against all odds. And now, I need only retrieve the materials._

With a wave of his Hook, Marethyu vanished, and as he did so, the tiny cottage vanished into the dusts of oblivion, alongside the river which was the birthplace of the Hallows.

Marethyu appeared in a grove in the United States, in California. Sights and scents assailed Death, evoking memories of a childhood that may have been only 20 years ago, or 10,000 years. Such is the nature of immortality and traveling the rivers of time.

Looking up, Marethyu caught sight of Methuselah Tree. When he was but a child, he looked upon Yggdrasil and found that it triumphed over this tree in age, and grandeur. But now, he looks at the Methuselah Tree and is awed, holding a greater respect for this ancient being than for that childhood wonder, kept away from danger by Hecate, She of Three Faces. For a life well lived is more rewarding and worthy of respect than one of hidden majesty, and a safe place to grow.

Abruptly, his reverie came to an end as a dryad stepped forth from the tree. It was wrinkled and brown, looking as if it had lived for infinite ages. She stepped forth in her glory, conveying a knowing air and projecting impressions of profound wisdom.

"You have come..." She whispered.

"Indeed I have milady, come to beg a favor of you." Marethyu solemnly replied.

"I know what you are...You are not my death, nor are you the concept of Death. The closest thing you are is an Avatar of Death, a spokesperson for a force of nature which does not think..."

"If that is the case, milady, then you know more than I do." Marethyu politely replied.

"Indeed... I am not human... I have reached an age wherein time has become irrelevant, and I have transcended the limitations of the 4th dimension." Spoke the dryad, eyes blind and unseeing.

"Most impressive Lady, for that is a feat that few have mastered. What do you See if I might ask?" Replied a now wary Marethyu.

"Ah, do not fret youngling. I know you and I know your purpose. Moro's, the Earthlords called you, and you went down in history. Mot, you were called by the Archon's and you went down in their list of kings. Marethyu you were named by the Elders, and you became their most infamous criminal. Death, you go by now days, and to immortals you are thehook-handed man. Yet I think I will call you Joshua Newman. For I have Seen the Past, Present and the Future, and lived through so much of it. So you will excuse me when I call you by the name of your birth." Chuckled the old dryad.

"Well you know me, but I don't know you"states Marethyu, not entirely put at ease.

" Oh, you may call me Mother." Said the strange dryad, with half of her mouth quirked up in a smug knowing grin, that told of secrets, and some cosmic joke that Marethyu was unaware of.

"Very well. Mother, I beg of you, pray grant me a branch from your venerable tree, and assist me, for my need is dire." Said Marethyu, in a curiously ritualistic manner.

"Oh, of course I would help sonny, any child with a need deserves help, if only they ask for it." That said, the mysterious Mother walked over there her tree, and reached out a wrinkled bony hand, grasping tremblingly for a branch.

*Crack*

"Here you go young'un, and good luck to you in whatever mischief you've come up with now." The dryad handed over the branch and laughed, then she walked and disappeared back into her tree.

_Curious...Most curious indeed..._

Marethyu waved his Hook, branch in hand as he vanished to retrieve his core. He reappeared in a great stone ampitheater, with rows of raised seats. A soft whooshing noise could be heard in this mysterious room, and suddenly, as Marethyu looked at the artifact he was here for, his aura came alight as he stood in front of the most dangerous magical object in the world. For he did in front of a great stone archway, riddled with ancient ruins from today, to ones predating the Earthlords. The archway was seemingly crumbling and fragile, but Marethyu knew that it was practically indestructible by any means known to man. As he approached, the scent of his aura grew stronger and the air itself began to smell sour and tangy, almost like his original orange scent but aged thousands old by the Hook. The Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries began to flutter as if caught in an unseen breeze and whispers broke out, slowly getting stronger until millions of voices were heard.

Marethyu raised his arm, and aligned the Hook with the top of the Veil. He quickly slashed downwards, ripping a piece out of the already tattered fabric. As he did that, an earpiercing metallic scream erupted, unsettling as nails on a chalkboard and terrifying as a banshees wail.

"The fabric of the Veil, forcibly taken, you shall serve the young master well." He murmured to himself.

He absentmindedly waved his hook and he was standing on a bridge, the river where the story first began.

"Branch of the Mother, willingly given, you shall support your lord. Fabric of Veil, forcibly taken, you shall obey your master." Marethyu then took out a little vial, that he had been saving for seven years. Collected from a cut the shape of a lightning bolt.

"Blood of Master, taken by Death in defense of Life, you will become one with yourself."

He waved his hook, and the gnarled wood became dusty and disintegrated with the power of Time. There, in the pile of dust was a wand. He then waved his Hook over the fabric, and the grey fabric flew into the air, twisted and undulated in a mesmerizing show, then it corkscrewed into a unnoticed hole in the bottom of the wand. Finally, 3 drops of blood dripped into the hole soaking the fabric and wand. The wand began glowing with a golden light, and all of a sudden, the wand was complete, without holes, pockmarks or imperfections. It was perfectly polished, and balenced, as if waiting for its new owner.

Curious, Death picked it up, and immediately felt a pull like a whirlpool. The wand had now connected to his core, and it was alive. It wanted to be used. Death's core and aura both ignited and started swirling around the wand like magnets, only held at bay by his will. He put it down, then picked it up. The vacumm, if anything, had increased, as though the wand was attempting to suck magic into it and magnify it. Marethyu staggered as he tried to let go of the terrifying wand.

Finally he droped it. Curiously, he started laughing, chuckling at first then outright laughing.

"If any wand can beat a locked Hallow, it would be this wand. Shake in fear Albus Dumbledore, for you cannot rely on your wand to save you now... Now, to give this to its owner..."

**So, no one really reviewed with much constructive criticism and now I'm paranoid and YOU NEED TO REVIEW because I'm getting scared and this is my first fanfic. Please? Harry's in the next chap. Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**I own nothing. Still.**

AURA CHART:

N. Flamel-Mint

P. Flamel-None

Dee-Sulfer/Brimstone

Machiavelli-Snakes

Dumbledore-Lemon Drops(couldn't resist)

Snape-Burning Tire Rubber

Sirius-Wet Dog(again couldn't resist)

Lupin-Leather

Voldemort-Blood

McGonagall-Vineger

Molly Weasley-Flour

Pomfrey-Bleach

Ron-Artificial Grape Flavoring

Hermione-Books/Dust

Marethyu- Thousand Year Old Orange's

Sprout-Fresh Earth

Neville-Grass

Draco-Bleach

Lucius-Bleach

Narcissa-Smelling Salts

Tonks-Bubblegum

Luna-Sea Breeze

*Note that I may not use all of these characters or describe their auras, its just an aid for you and I to remember which is what. Review if I forgot one. If its an important character I will add it. But I'm not adding auras for people as obscure as Daedalus Diggle.

_In heaven, all the interesting people are missing..._

_Friedrich Nietzsche_

**Chapter 4:A History Lesson with a Hole**

Harry Potter, now at the tender age of eight years old, tenderly woke up in his cupboard. He lay back on his cot, staring at the spiders weaving as he thought back on his strange dream. It had started like all his other dreams, but ended differently.

In it, he was like a ghost, walking through a strange house with edges strangely blurred, as if he were the only real person. He would always be compelled to walk into the living room, though during all of these dreams he was strangely lucid. Just as always, the door unlocked by itself and a cloaked man walked through.

In these dreams, he was never able to hear sound in the beginning, but he had often fantasized that the man hurled into the wall by a flash of green was his father. He was always lucid in these dreams but could never hear anything and if he tried to make sounds, get noticed, or even touch someone, he could not, like some strange wraith doomed to watch the same scene replay, over and over. Like always, the hooded man walked upstairs and killed a very beautiful woman who might have been his mother. But when ever he asked his relatives about his parents, he was cuffed and told they were dead because of a car accident.

Then like always he was compelled to blink, and when he opened his eyes again he was a toddler, in a crib in the corner. The dream at this point became very oddly blurry and all he could remember of those moments were a veritable ocean of neon green light, a high pitched keening noise, a metallic screeching like a razors edge, and finally a searing agony in his forehead, relentlessly carving out a lightning bolt, seemingly onto his very soul.

At this point he would usually wake up. But this time, the scene changed. He was in a dark room made of stone, that when he touched it, he heard a buzzing and could feel energies at his fingers, sending pins and needles through his limbs, energies like a swarm of ravenous fish, biting and tearing.

Then he had turned around from the stone benchs, and viewed, something. It was to his eyes a great stone arch with a fabric fluttering and partially obscuring the other side. But he could feel that it was more, that it was a device infinitely stranger, more powerful and alien than he could ever imagine. Whatever it was, it was not natural. It did not belong on this planet, let alone this dimension. And so with great tredepation, Harry moved back from it.

Then, under his breath, he murmured "What are you?".

The fabric began fluttering more violently, as if caught in a storm. Frightened, Harry stumbled back and tripped, falling on his back facing that ominous archway. Suddenly it calmed.

_" What am I?"_

Nonplussed, Harry could only stare.

_"I am an artifact of Power. I have been called by many names. I have been called the Exit, the Archway of Death, and in recent years, the Veil. I have been around since before the Earthlords. Fashioned by Death, I transformed from a horror into a savior. Tell me boy, what do you know of Magic?"_

Harry blinked, and replied "Magic doesn't exist." He then felt very foolish as he began to get an impression that the monolithic structure was judging him. He was also detecting a feeling of amusement pouring off the artifact. With a sinking feeling he asked, "Does it?"

_"Sit young master and I shall teach you of my creation. Though I have had many names, I have had only one function. I am the Last Leygate."_

Naturally Harry, at the tender age of eight and armed with the knowledge that he was only dreaming and that reality here was subjective anyway, asked, "Mr. Veil, what's a Leygate? Also does that mean that there aren't any more leygates?"

_"Well young master, our tale brings us to Danu Talis, what you might call Atlantis. Leygates are places that Leylines, intersect. Leylines are like rivers of magic, veins pumping magic into every part of the Earth and when fashioned into leygates have the ability to transport beings to similar intersections in the Earths magic. Now, on Danu Talis, there existed a multitude of creatures. The first of the Great Races came into being because they were the first race which was affected by Magic. The Great Races were not unique in that they were intelligent or sentient, but they had Magic and by its grace they built a sprawling empire. These Earthlords were magnificent and they had incredible magic and science. However, as with all empires, it ended. A great battle broke out, bathing the Earth in tainted power and science. And that is when I was first created. The wild tainted Magic changed me, turned my purpose into Mother Natures protection against the wild magics. For too much magic can do a grievous ill to people. Originally I had been the First Leygate, formed from the Receptor. You see, Magic is not born inside the Earth, or if it is, it stays there, down in the core. No, magic comes out from space, from Creation itself. The Receptor is the anchor point of which a intergalactic leyline transforms into terrestrial Leylines."_

Harry scrunched up his face. "That's a lotta big words Mr. Veil sir, but I think I get it. If these Leylines are the veins and arteries, then this Receptor thingy is like the heart? And your the Aorta? I heard that's was the big vein in the heart is called."

_"Most astute of you young master. Yes I was in my own way, the Aorta. I was called the First Leygate, because I was created first and I was like the Central Train Station. To travel anywhere, you had to travel through me. But the war poisoned my magic, until I was a monstrous thing. Any who tried to travel into me never came back and I could not be entered. I was a black hole, in the sense that anything that went in me went forever, screams echoing for centuries. In a similar sense, I have close properties. For even today it is death to walk through me and some can hear the whispers of those who pass through."_

There was silence for a while as if the Artifact were gathering it's thoughts.

_"My purpose was as a sink hole. If you keep filling a balloon, it will pop. And so I transformed into a Leygate to an alternate dimension. Not into a Shadowrealm, or Beyond, but a Leygate into the land of Death. For in Death, energy is different and infinate amounts can be sent there without catastrophe. I was made this way by a being called Marethyu, though at the time he went by Moro's. He made me, and after the Old World was destroyed, he brought me here. And I have been buried underneath London ever since."_

"OK but tell me about the super battle!" Asked an excited Harry.

_The battle which twisted the Leylines was located in the First City, in what is called the Time Before Time. There, occurred a battle of epic proportions, between the peoples of the Earth. There were the Earthlords, few in number but terrible in strength, as they wielded their magic and science and combined it in terrifying ways which have never been done since, save for that mysterious creature called Abraham the Mage. Then there were the Ancients, powerful in magics and sorcery yet disdaining technology. And their counterparts fought as well, the Archon's, who possessed no terrible magics save one. They were Technomages. For they were a truly advanced civilization, with terrible science, having discovered all the secrets of genetics, nuclear fission and fusion. Their technology was so advanced, that they nonchalantly used Earths most dangerous theoretical research as lighting. Nuclear fusion as common lighting. And so these three civilizations clashed and warred, and the First City was annihilated by the event, the Leylines and magnetic poles refusing to work in the ruins of the ancient place."_

Harry was getting the sense that the mysterious Leygate had just wanted to rant about it for centuries. "So what happened to all the people then?"

_"An interesting question. The Earthlords fled and went into hiding, what was left of them anyway, for while they were still terribly powerful and nigh-immortal, they were very few in number, and the battle had stopped their ability to procreate. The Archon's had been affected by so much magic, and had no tolerance to it and so were driven insane, the scraps of their race developed an obsession with using science to master magic, and so never be vulnerable to it again. They experimented on themselves and became the worst monsters of myth and terror. Cernunnos became a bestial destroyer, at best tainted by his science and two of the Elemental Swords, at worst, a slavering beast. And Coatlicue, the royalty, was a vampiric horror, indestructible and a danger to all creatures._

"What about the Ancients?" Asked Harry somewhat curious.

_"Curious that you should ask that. Well, the Ancients hid and intermingled with the human race, and eventually bred with them, creating a new race. And it is very curious how everything turned out, because it mingled two types of magic. You see, the Ancients did not use auric magic like all other races had. No, their aura was condensed into a magical core inside them, where they would channel energy through their bodies to perform magic. The reason this made them so dangerous was the fact that they were near immortal. With the nature of magic, a certain analogy can be made to space. Consider the difference between a nebulae and a star. They both have energy, quite a lot of it in fact. They are made of the same substance and mass. But where a nebulae is a storage for energy, a sun ignites and produces its own energy. And so the Ancients were able to have access to in comparison, near unlimited energy. The drawback however is that the energy must be funneled through the body, and you remember what I said about too much magic being bad for you? Well the Ancients could funnel large amounts of magic, but they were limited to what their bodies could do. And so they became peak physical warriors as well, with an additional benefit of being able to amplify their magic with weapons which serves as foci."_

"I think I like these Ancient guys. But why weren't they able to curb-stomp all the other people" asked Harry, now crosslegged, face scrunched up in curiosity.

_"Ah that is the difference. Because you see, too much magic is bad for you and while the Ancients were very durable, the stronger magic they would use, the more damage their bodies would take. In contrast, the other peoples didn't have infinate energy but they did have pretty large stores of magic, and with their aura, it never had to touch them. They could more safely use huge quantities of magic all at once, whereas if an Ancient tried to use all their power at once, they would explode."_

"I don't think that's very fair." Frowned Harry.

_"Well it equals out again, because if an aura user tries to use more of their aura than they had energy, it would use them as energy instead, and they would burst into flames. But enough of that. I went on a tangent. You see, after the battle, when humans and Ancients procreated with each other, the children born of such a union were unique. Because they had both an aura and a magical core. From their birth, the aura was semi-active, and came awake upon the magical core being active. Yet, the first children could use only a tiny amount of magic or risk being exploded. Some, managed to control their core and went on to do spectacular things. For example, Godric Griffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slitherin. You will hear more about them in you near future. However, through the process of evolution, the likelihood of these "wizards" exploding grew less and less. Walls formed around the magical core so that people could not destroy themselves. In the process wandless magic grew less and less until it was impossible by use of the magical core. These days, only people with active auras can use wandless magic, and everyone else has to uses wands and other foci to extract energy. This method is very stable and results in very stable magic which can be used for complicated things, that aura users can not do, but humans are still so frail that they too have a limit like the Ancients before them. But your race has always had the potential to be something more."_

"Um, , I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you say MY race?"

_"Why yes I did. You are a wizard Harry, and one who will do the impossible I believe. It is getting close to the time for you to wake up however. Next time we shall meet in person, and I shall finish my story. I shall tell you of how I was crafted, and why, and I shall tell you of the Elders and the War of the Gods. But for now, I shall leave you with a last bit of advice. Seek out the Hallows boy, the Wand, the Cloak, and the Stone. And seek aid from my maker. Seek the man who bears a Hook instead of a hand, for he will help you with your destiny."_

With this ominous statement, the Arch began to change. On the centerpiece of one side, a strange symbol gouged itself on the rock. It was a Triangle, with an inscribed Circle within it and a single Line bisecting it. On the other side, a curve was carved. Reminiscent of a crescent moon... Or a Hook. A tremendous force began to suck at Harry. He scrabbled to keep a hold but he was pulled straight into the Veil, and he woke up.

"Huh, what a strange dream." Harry mused to himself.

His Aunt Petunia, passing by the cupboard, unlocked it and dragged Harry out by his ear.

"Stop you silly dreaming, and get the door" she hissed into his ear, evidently having heard his mumbling with her keen ears.

She shoved him towards the door, making him stumble. He regained his balance and opened the door.

Standing there, on the porch, was a hooded man, with a gleaming Hook taking the place of his hand.

The man smiled and said,"Hello again Harry. May I come in?"

_I am in so much trouble._

**AN-Ok so I got bored and started writing again. But what was intended to be a scene where Harry gets picked up somehow turned into a full blown lore scene. Mostly because you can't have enough lore. Especially in crossovers. Also, as a reader I had never appreciated this, but apparently cliffhangers are in fact the easiest way to end a chapter. Still need reviews and suggestions and if anyone wants to write a crossover fic with the same lore and auras, they are welcome to. Just try not to blatently copy. If this is even worth copying. So please review, and give me suggestions on how to play the next chapter. And BTW the base lore for what I made is real, Ancients, Archon's and Earthlords clashed in the first city in the Time before Time, and I made up the bit about Ancient magic. But you gotta admit, it makes sense if they could match the other two super powers blow for blow. And yes there was a "final leygate-a perfectly circular hole in a cliff face- (no one) has returned; their screams still echoed through the gates even though centuries had passed." Spooky and similar to the Veil eh.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I own nothing. Still.**

AURA CHART:

N. Flamel-Mint

P. Flamel-None

Dee-Sulfer/Brimstone

Machiavelli-Snakes

Dumbledore-Lemon Drops(couldn't resist)

Snape-Burning Tire Rubber

Sirius-Wet Dog(again couldn't resist)

Lupin-Leather

Voldemort-Blood

McGonagall-Vineger

Molly Weasley-Flour

Pomfrey-Bleach

Ron-Artificial Grape Flavoring

Hermione-Books/Dust

Marethyu- Thousand Year Old Orange's

Sprout-Fresh Earth

Neville-Grass

Draco-Bleach

Lucius-Bleach

Narcissa-Smelling Salts

Tonks-Bubblegum

Luna-Sea Breeze

*Note that I may not use all of these characters or describe their auras, its just an aid for you and I to remember which is what. Review if I forgot one. If its an important character I will add it. But I'm not adding auras for people as obscure as Daedalus Diggle.

_Life is hard. Then you die. Then they throw dirt in your face. Then the worms eat you. Be grateful it happens in that order._

**Chapter 5:The Power He Knows Not**

Harry stood there staring at the hook-handed man.

"Um, no." Said Harry, for now disregarding his rather unbelievable dream.

The hook-handed man kept smiling that infuriating smile.

"Now Harry, I think there are some things that we need to talk about. And I need to talk with your Aunt. And then, you can come home with me." Said the man, still smiling.

"Um Mr..."

"Marethyu" the hook-handed man interjected cheerfully.

"Ok, Mr. Marethyu, I don't think that's how things work." Said Harry cautiously. Best to stick with the evil you know after all.

"Well Harry, I believe that some rules should be bent, especially in your case. So tell me what you think and I will tell you why your wrong." Said the irritating man, still grinning.

"But, but you can't do that, its against the law and, and Aunt Petunia will get mad, and I'm not supposed to talk with strangers." Spluttered the young child indignantly.

"Ok then. Well to start off, I don't have to follow any laws except that I set myself, and you are under a different set of laws anyway. Your Aunt Petunia is always mad, so I will go talk to her. And you and I have met, we just haven't been formally introduced." Said Marethyu, still beaming at some unseen joke. "But that is a story for a later time, right now I must speak with your Aunt. Would you like to come with?"

"Ok" murmured Harry somewhat distrustfully.

Excellent." The man said as he stood up, looking more imposing than ever in his odd black cloak. "I do so love it when everything goes to plan.

Marethyu strood into the kitchen. "Petunia Dursley, if I might have a word? "

"You! You one of them freakish people, with their lot. Well I will not tolerate any of this in my house. Now, GET OUT."

"Madam Dursley, I must insist on speaking with you. While some things I do may be "freakish" so to speak, I am not part of "their lot". Actually I'm not part of any lot." Stated Marethyu, no longer smiling and wearing a grave expression.

"Fine, we can talk in the kitchen, I won't have you disturbing my Vernon or Diddikins." Petunia snapped.

They moved over to the kitchen, Petunia staring unashamedly at Marethyu's Hook. Little Harry followed behind descretely and stood in the corner where no one would notice him. Marethyu winked at Harry. Ok where Aunt Petunia wouldn't notice him.

"Ok Petunia, let's drop the games. We both know that Harry is magical, but what you don't know is that Harry has more than one type of magic." Said Marethyu.

There's more kinds of freaks in the world!" Asked a horrified Petunia.

"Yes and no" said Marethyu. "All humans have the ability to do magic, but the freaks as you call them have this and their own magic. If its any consolation to you, there are perhaps a handful of humans with this magic, compared to the Wizarding Community."

"Wait, normal folks can learn how to do it?" Asked Petunia, a strange expression crossing her face.

"Yes...but it either takes lifetimes to naturally Awaken, or a terrible process which has driven people to insanity before." Said a hesitant Marethyu.

Petunia stared a bit more, before shaking her head and asking "So what do you want with Harry, he isn't slated to go to that school, until he's eleven."

"Ah, yes, well there are several prophecies which have their hold on young Harry, so I propose that I take him now, and train him until he goes to Hogwarts, at which point you will only have him during the summer months." Said Marethyu.

Petunia, even after the shock of what the hook-handed man said, was able to pull herself together remarkablywell."And we won't have to pay you and he will stay safe?" She inquired, mindful of Dumbledore's command to her.

"You have my word Milady." He stated.

"Hmm. Boy, your going with this nice man here, and I don't want to see a single glimpse of you until your eleven. Now GO!" She yelled.

Petunia hustled the bewildered boy and the bemused Marethyu out of the front door, viciously muttering "Good riddence to bad rubbish."

She slamed the front door and the boy and immortal stared at each other.

"...I still don't think that's how you do things." Said Harry after a while.

"Relax Harry, the government can't do anything about the important problems, so what makes you think that they will care about the small ones." Said Marethyu.

There was a pause.

"My English teacher said that people like you are cynical." Said Harry, mispronouncing the word a bit.

"Well, I daresay it comes with the age, and the job description." Said a once-again jovial Marethyu.

"...you look twenty..." Said a now frowning Harry.

"I'm immortal lad" said Marethyu.

Harry's face betrayed his shock.

Marethyu grinned and took Harry's hand. He waved his Hook, and they appeared in a concrete room, with candles lit.

"Um, what was that?" Said a now slightly frightened Harry.

"Magic, my dear Harry." Said Marethyu.

"I had a weird dream about magic last night" said Harry. "You have a hook for a hand, but are you THE hook-handed man?" Asked Harry.

"Well, I usually am" said Marethyu. "As far as hook-handed men go, I am pretty important. But why don't you tell me about this dream of yours."

Harry recounted the dream to Marethyu, watching his face change with every word.

"Well that's odd. And rather unexpected but it does save time." Said Marethyu.

"Ok, well we need to do some stuff over the next few years. You need to train, and I need to keep you safe. So I will teach you magic. Only wizards born to it can use it, but you have the talent. I will teach you True Divination." Said Marethyu.

"Isn't that like seeing the future or something like that?" Asked Harry.

"Yes and no. Take a seat Harry, this might take a while." With that, Marethyu waved his Hook and two chairs appeared, as well as a fireplace and subsequent fire.

They both sat down and Marethyu conjured up some tea.

"Well" Marethyu began, "Divination is seperated into two tiers. Everyone knows about the lower tier, but very few know about the upper tier. The ordering of the tiers is rather ironic. The lower tier from weakest to strongest, is Diviner, Prophet, and Seer. They are the pathetic fortune-tellers everyone is aware of. Diviners use props and aids such as tea leaves and crystal balls to get insight to the future, and it is vague and unreliable. Prophets will speak prophecies whenever there is a major event about to happen, and will retain no knowledge of it afterward. And Seers can see glimpses or even induce glimpses of the most probable future."

Marethyu paused to sip at his tea.

"However, the upper tier is very different. They are the ones that anyone with any sense is terrified of, because their magic gives such a huge advantage over their opponents. The upper tiers have their titles preceded by True, for distinction. As ordered from weakest to strongest, there are Seers, Prophets and Diviners. There is also a subclass for those who have both the powers of the Seer and Prophet, but are not Diviners. They are called Oracles. Seers have powers similar to their lower tier counterparts, but are able to see infinite futures, times and places all at once. Because of this, they are often quite unhinged, but very intelligent and resistant to any mental magics. Prophets are stronger than them but it is a close thing, as their abilities enable them to consciously speak a prophecy and it will come true, based on several factors. I will come back to that as that is the kind that you are. Oracles can both see the future and control it as they are a mix of Seer and Prophet, but without the capabilities of a Diviner. A Diviner has total mastery over the branch of Divination and are often the leaders of that community. Otherwise the most powerful of the upper tier leads. Diviners are always those few born without core barriers, who are called Lord level wizards. Their ability is that of Oracles, but because of their power, they can actually transverse time itself, moving through the timeline. However the last one died a thousand years ago, named Rowena Ravenclaw.

Marethyu paused again to sip his tea. During this break, Harry looked around the concrete room. It was warm and a bit light from the fire. There were several maps on the wall in the corner, of Antarctica, all with an X on the same point.

"Now you have the potential to be a prophet. A True Prophet. So you need to know some stuff about how it all works. Prophesy is some tricky business. One of the best examples of True Prophesy is the story of Sleeping Beauty. Contrary to what the book says, a curse cannot be that long or specific. So we assume that it was prophesy. A specific action, on a specific day, with a specific cause, and a specific escape clause, that would take place over a decade." Said Marethyu.

"Alright, repeat after me. PROPHESY IS FINICKY!" Marethyu shouted.

"Prophesy is finicky" Harry parroted.

"That is the first lesson. Prophesy is not absolute, it can change and it will not always do what you want. If you predict for yourself a good life, you may be happy for all of 5 seconds, and then it will kill you to reduce improbability. Repeat after me. PROBABILITY IS POWER!"

"Probability is power." Said Harry again.

"Alright. I know your only seven so I will try to explain this to you as best I can. Probability is the chance of something happening. The more unlikely something is to happen, the more power it takes for a prophecy to make it happen." Marethyu paused to materialize a pair of dice.

"Alright do you think I can get two sixes?"

"Maybe." Said a now confused Harry.

"Alright let's make a bet. If I get two sixes, in three turns, I'll give you some candy." Said a smiling Marethyu.

"I don't think you can do that. I accept." Said Harry.

"I don't know" said Marethyu. "**I'm feeling lucky."**

With Marethyu's odd turn of phrase, Harry could almost feel ripples emanating off Marethyu, distorting reality as ripples in a pool distort light. Marethyu rolled. Two sixes. Marethyu rolled again. Two sixes. Marethyu rolled a final time. The dice clattered across the floor to land at Harry's feet. Two sixes.

"Hey, no fair, you must have cheated." Said a disgruntled Harry, frowning at the dice.

"Nope, I just made a prophecy that I was going to be lucky. Unfortunately for me, I am not a wizard so that's about the extent of my abilities. Alright so if you predict that a man will die tomorrow, then the amount of power to predict that depends on how likely he was to die that day. If it was an old man with heart disease, then it wouldn't take too much power. But if it were a twenty year old, then it would take more power because the man isn't likely to die." Said Marethyu.

"Ok", Harry cautiously accepted.

"So prophecies can be specific as well, it just changes power requirements. If you specify that a man must die tomorrow, and have the power to back it up, then one way or another he will die tomorrow. But that takes into account all of the different ways he could die. Now if you specified something very improbable like him getting squished by a blue whale, then it would take a lot more power. But if you specified something likely for him, like him getting run over by a car when you know he has to cross a busy street, you can actually reduce the power from the original prophecy of him dying, because you will have eliminated futures which are improbable. Are you still with me?" Finished Marethyu.

"Yeah I am." Said a slightly lost Harry.

"Good. Now a good metaphor is that time is a river. Just like a river seeks its lowest point, the river of time seeks to move through the highest probability. If you throw a rock into said river, the course of the river minutely changes and ripples spread out. The rock you throw is a prophecy, and how hard you throw it is the power that you throw it with. Naturally, where you want to throw it and how many ripples you want it to have all depend on the power. As such, where and when you want your prophecy to happen depend on power. Physical distance needs more power, so just as a rule of thumb, keep in in the country. Physical distance is like throwing it across the river. Time is like throwing it down the river. Thus time generally needs more power than doing it in the present. That isn't always true however, because if you seek to disrupt the river with a rock and make it flow right at the present, it is a lot less probable than throwing a rock and watching the river shift gradually to the right. If I were to predict that the government of Britain would fall over night, it would be so power draining to make sure that every event no matter how improbable happens in one night, that it wouldn't be worth it. But if you spaced it out over 50 years, that would be less draining than the time that would factor in." Lectured Marethyu.

"OK, so what's the catch? Something that powerful can't happen without bad things happening." Said Harry, head cocked to the side as if trying to figure out if he's being duped.

"And you call me cynical." Muttered Marethyu. "Well, I was just getting to that. If you try to throw a rock in a river too hard, you will get splashed. And basically, if you try to make a prophecy without the required power to back it up, it will dissipate, or it will take that power you spent and make a prophecy about the opposite effect. If you predicted a man would die tommorow, but he would spend tomorrow locked in a bunker with a fully equipped team of medical professionals, then the sheer improbability of it would change the power, to prophesize that no matter what happens the man would live through tomorrow. That's why you must try not to predict your own fate, unless circumstances are dire. Well, I think that's about it. Any questions?" Asked Marethyu.

"Yeah, how can I do that?" Asked Harry.

Marethyu laughed and banished both sets of the tea.

"I will teach you. Ok so follow my instructions. Close your eyes, and imagine a green glowing ball. This is your magical core. Then walk into it. You can smell the scent of chlorine, hear a high-pitched keening. You can feel icy razors that speak of comfort, and taste a metallic flavor on your tongue. You are holding a rock, inscribed with your prophecy. Throw it into your magical core and imagine waves rippling out in all directions, moving through space and time out of your body, warping reality. NOW!" Marethyu ended with a shout.

The air around him grew cold, and the fire died. Shadows in the corners started leaping and growing. A faint hint of chlorine, rapidly growing stronger could be detected, and a faint keening noise was at the very edge of Marethyu's perception. Harry Potter sat in the middle of the room, and his eyes were steadily glowing brighter and brighter green from behind his closed eyes. The air itself was charged with power and potential.

Abruptly, Harry's eyes snapped open, glowing the color of the Killing Curse. His scar made by Marethyu glowed neon green and a noxious green gas began billowing out of it, as his auric powers awakened.

**"I WILL BE THE MOST POWERFUL PROPHET IN THE WORLD!"** Harry bellowed, his youthful voice changed to be deep and gravelly. A shockwave of power could be seen exploding out from Harry, like ripples on a river, distorting reality and time. All of Harry's power dissipated.

Unexpected, Marethyu began laughing.

"Harry, I hate to burst your bubble, believe me I do. But you already are the most powerful prophet in the world. You are a wizard who I've removed the core bindings from, with an Awakened Aura. You just cannot feel the negative effects because you are young enough to grow into it and I am suppressing it for you. Also, you are the only Prophet in the world, at least with full control of his powers and who has instruction. And since there are no Oracles or Diviners, you are now the leader of what few Seers there are, and the sorriest bunch of charlatans you will ever see. But this is an important lesson. Do you see how tiring it was for you to make a prophecy even when it was already true, and should have had no cost? Exactly. Never make a prophecy in battle." Finished Marethyu.

"So, now what?" Asked a clearly exhausted Harry.

"Why Harry, we are going to visit someone who will be your teacher. And you will learn from him because you have no idea of how many favors I will need to use for this."

"Who's my teacher?" Harry asked, already nervous.

"Why, the detestable, destructive, deplorable, delightfully damningly dangerous, Dr. Dee."

Harry gulped.

**AN-Review please, to complain, flame exclaim or defame my work. I just want to know what I can do differently. Shout out to Death5000 and Septimus Heap for believing in me enough to fav and follow my work. Love you guys. I'll do maybe 2 shout outs per chapter so don't feel bad if you werent chosen. Sorry about the choppy grammer and annoyingly long explanations about prophecy. Though you gotta admit that this fits the prophecy better than love. Anyway, rate and review. Love-Lucifer**


	6. Chapter 6

I** own nothing. Still.**

AURA CHART:

N. Flamel-Mint

P. Flamel-None

Dee-Sulfer/Brimstone

Machiavelli-Snakes

Dumbledore-Lemon Drops(couldn't resist)

Snape-Burning Tire Rubber

Sirius-Wet Dog(again couldn't resist)

Lupin-Leather

Voldemort-Blood

McGonagall-Vineger

Molly Weasley-Flour

Pomfrey-Bleach

Ron-Artificial Grape Flavoring

Hermione-Books/Dust

Marethyu- Thousand Year Old Orange's

Sprout-Fresh Earth

Neville-Grass

Draco-Bleach

Lucius-Bleach

Narcissa-Smelling Salts

Tonks-Bubblegum

Luna-Sea Breeze

*Note that I may not use all of these characters or describe their auras, its just an aid for you and I to remember which is what. Review if I forgot one. If its an important character I will add it. But I'm not adding auras for people as obscure as Daedalus Diggle.

_Many who life deserve death, and many who die deserve life. Can you give it to them?_

_-Gandalf the Grey_

**Chapter 6: Training with Doctor Dee**

Harry stood in the middle of a large ballroom. He did not want to be here particularly, but Marethyu had waved his Hook of sorcery and destiny and magic, and rubbish like that, sending Harry on his way, ignoring the liberal protests. Harry sighed and looked towards the stairs. Harry clutched a letter that Marethyu had given him, apperantly meant to threaten this Dee into training him. Harry was almost sure that he had heard mutters of "imminent death, stripping of magic, and extreme bodily harm" while Marethyu composed the letter. Then, before Marethyu sent him, he impressed on Harry the extreme danger of the Doctor. He almost gleefully described how he has a talent for brainwashing, manipulation, and horrifying magic coupled with a even higher penchant for collateral damage. Marethyu looked just a bit too smug at being able to threaten the so-called English Magician, making Harry privately think that Marethyu just wanted to pull on over on him, for some past grievance.

"Well, this is going to be awkward. I wonder..."

Harry took a deep breath, and an emerald green swirled about him. The scent of chlorine started circulating the air, countering the stink of a heavy sulfer. **"The English Magician shall not bring harm to me until he has heard me out." **stated Harry, in a powerful voice.

A silent thunderclap blasted through reality, waves of intent emanating from Harry's core. Harry slumped over, breath moving in short gasps as he comprehended the power needed for that trick. It was a near thing, almost resulting in a prophetic backlash, that allowed Harry to understand, just how bad his odds were, and just how dangerous this Doctor was.

-SCENE BREAK

Doctor Johnathan Dee, servant of the Dark Elders, Rival to Niccolo Machiavelli, Arch-Enemy of the Flamels, and arguably one of the most dangerous men on earth, was in his office filing spells in his digitalized Grimoire, when he felt the explosion of power. Right in his mansion. He had been pouring over some of his more esoteric necromantic rituals, pondering the idea of creating draugr, which supposedly had been able to use their aura, even after death, when the shockwave went through him, making his teeth buzz and skin tingle. He took a deep whiff of air.

_Chlorine._

Dee spun around in his chair and pulled up his database of beings in his world. He put in a search for an auric scent of chlorine, then went over to the other moniter to activate his security system. He did not activate his lethal traps, but did turn on his state-of-the-art monitoring system.

There, in the ballroom, there was a smallish entity. But Dee knew that size was not everything, and so turned on the camera feed. Interestingly enough, the sensors said that the cameras were still intact, but were not functioning due to being overloaded.

_Who would create a spell to destroy cameras, but not physically? Perhaps some magnetic force..._

Dee wondered as he turned back to his computer.

_Looks like during the first World War, the Morrigan had taken on a Chlorine Gas scent, though she rarely uses her aura. But the size of that person isn't right for the Morrigan. I have heard rumors that Mendeleev liked to take on the scents of the various elements but he was cracked anyway, after he achieved his immortality. Last I heard of him, he was meditating in Siberia. _

Doctor Dee was getting nervous, because that meant that the person downstairs was an unknown, and he hated unknowns.

There was a knocking at the door, and Dee spun around, and then sat in his chair, silently berating himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. He adjusted himself and faced the door, putting on his emotional mask, which had first been seen in the Court of Queen Elizabeth.

"Come in" he ordered, attempting to stay in control of the situation with his iron will.

A child stepped in the door, about six or seven years old, with emerald eyes and raven hair.

He almost felt insulted. Almost. Because while the idea that an apperant child could breach his defenses, the fact remained that the child was here, without any help that he could see, and cloaked in a stifling chlorine smell. If Machiavelli ever knew about this, he knew that the Italian would mock him until the end of time.

"Um, Dr. Dee?" The child asked.

Refocusing, Dee replied, "Yes, that is my name."

_There goes any remaining chance of this being some kid who wandered in._

"I was told by my patron to give this to you." The child said shyly.

He handed out an envolope for Dee to take.

Dee glanced suspiciously at the apperantly human child, and opened the envelope. Moments later, his eyes appeared to be bulging and his skin had turned a rather unhealthy looking shade of white.

_Dear Doctor Johnathan Dee,_

_You do not know me, but I know you. I have met you many times but you will never know that. There is a conflict that will occur soon, and the child in front of you is central to that conflict. Now, I know for certain that he will not side with the Light or the Dark, but instead will navigate his way through the various shades of grey. You will teach the child everything you can, tactics, magics, summoning, anything that can give him an advantage. _

_You will especially take time to teach him Necromancy. I know you have been wanting an apprentice recently, and he will do very well in that field, as he has a familial disposition for it. No doubt you are burning with curiosity at this. It was always one of your signature weaknesses. Very well I believe I shall enlighten you. He is the direct descendent of the youngest of the first Dreadlords. I believe you know the implications of that. _

_He is the direct descendent of Ignotus Peverell, and interestingly enough, his opponent determined by prophecy is of the line of Cadmus Peverell. Don't drop the paper out of shock yet. Because now I must coerce you into this deal. I know that you will delight in teaching him, but for the fact that he will not join your masters. Thus I must sweeten the deal. In this conflict, the descendants of the Ancients will battle. And yes, I do know your suspicians about them, and your unhealthy curiosity requires you to now investigate. Also many powerful individuals will take part in this little game. Including the Flamels. And some of their allies. Yes I know what you are thinking. But I will give you this chance to attempt to sway tbr boy to your side before he trains with the Flamels and before he goes into battle. _

_I believe that you have taken the bait by now, but to ensure it, I will be making Niccolo aware of this little arrangement, so if you do not play your role, he undoubtedly will. Now for the unpleasant part. I am the boys patron, and while he is under your care, he will not come to harm. Know that I could kill you at any time, for I am greater than your supposedly anonymous masters. The boy is essential to the game, and if you mess this up, I will treat you to the fate of Gilgamesh, and then eviscerate you with a dagger holding the Curse of the Fisher King. Then leave you, without an aura, bleeding out in prison for eternity. Be warned. I am that one you suspected existed all those years ago. Just like your masters, the Flamels tried to keep their secrets hidden too. I gave them the Codex, and taught the secrets of Fire to Le Comte St. Germain. There have been other occurrences of me throughout the years. No doubt your will try to trace them all. _

_Remember my Warning_

_-The Hook-Handed Man_

Dee sat in his chair frozen. His mind just refused to process. Training the descendent of of Dreadlord Ignotus Peverell, to defeat the heir of Dreadlord Cadmus Peverell. The greatest Necromancers of all time, who instituted the society and hierarchy of all Necromancers, and were reputed to have summoned death. It was unthinkable. Dee looked back at the letter. All the secrets that the man knew, all that he revealed, had far-reaching implications and put together a rather terrifying picture. He had know for decades that someone was playing puppet master, but it only just hit him, of how dangerous he was.

Dee sat up straight, and regained hiscomposure, only through centuries of living and his experiences in the Elizabethan Court.

"Well boy, do you have a name?" He asked imperiously, his pride refusing to let the letter cow him.

"My name is Harry, sir. Harry Potter." The boy piped.

"Do you know how to call on your aura, Harry Potter?" Dee asked.

Rather than answer, Harry started concentrating and called on it, remembering the sensation that filled him whenever using his prophetic powers. A chill wind blew through the sealed room, and a green mist started billowing out of Harry, pouring out of his scar primarily. The odor of Chlorine filled the air, and a high-pitched keening noise, akin to razors and nails on a chalkboard, started emanating from the boy. A tendril of aura touched Dee. His aura automatically reacted to form armor, which served to protect him, but for a moment he had felt that of duality of knives and frostbite.

"Well, at least I won't have to teach that." Dee muttered.

"Lessons will begin tomorrow morning Potter. I will have one of my servants guide you to your rooms." He directed.

A homunculus entered the room at Dee's unmistakable change in aura, and gently led Harry out.

Once the room was empty, Dee clenched his fists and ignited his aura. Choking amounts of a sulferous smell invaded the room, flooding it with his aura.

Dee could not remember the last time he was scared. It was not usually done because Dee was the sort that became rather insecure when scared, and lashed out with a nasty habit of killing whatever was scaring him.

_I obviously haven't been scared enough in my life, if the one time it genuinely happens enough to terrify me, there is nothing to be done._

Dee pinched his nose in frustration. He knew what he had to do, he knew what the best chance of survival was. He knew who to call to help him with this mess. He really just did not want to do it. He shook his head again, and picked up his cell. He dialed the number to one of the worst men he had ever had the misfortune to meet in his immortal life. The call picked up.

In an archaic form of Italian that was popular during the reign of the Medici's, Dee spoke into the phone.

"Niccolo? I really need a favor."

**AN-Sorry this took a bit longer to get out. I just want to get my chapters out before I lose my creative steam. Shout out to knt709 and lunar818. As always, review and rate and whatever. Flame if you want. Have fun. If anyone has any suggestions for the next chapter I would be happy to hear them, as I want to move on to Harry's next part of training, but I also hate it when stories just go time lapse harry is super powerful god wizard. Anyway, rate review, and vote in the reviews if you want this to have a pairing. I was originally going to go without but if you guys want one, I will give my best shot. We can vote for who gets paired next chapter. And also, we hit the 10000 mark for words, woot woot. Never thought I could get this far.**


	7. Chapter 7

I** own nothing. Still.**

AURA CHART:

N. Flamel-Mint

P. Flamel-None

Dee-Sulfer/Brimstone

Machiavelli-Snakes

Dumbledore-Lemon Drops(couldn't resist)

Snape-Burning Tire Rubber

Sirius-Wet Dog(again couldn't resist)

Lupin-Leather

Voldemort-Blood

McGonagall-Vineger

Molly Weasley-Flour

Pomfrey-Bleach

Ron-Artificial Grape Flavoring

Hermione-Books/Dust

Marethyu- Thousand Year Old Orange's

Sprout-Fresh Earth

Neville-Grass

Draco-Bleach

Lucius-Bleach

Narcissa-Smelling Salts

Tonks-Bubblegum

Luna-Sea Breeze

*Note that I may not use all of these characters or describe their auras, its just an aid for you and I to remember which is what. Review if I forgot one. If its an important character I will add it. But I'm not adding auras for people as obscure as Daedalus Diggle.

_Die, my dear doctor! That's the last thing I shall do! _  
_~ Lord Palmerston_

**Chapter 7: Enter the Firestorm**

Time, had passed. This is not just an observation of what seems to happen whether we will it or not, but instead, this passing of time had a particular significance attached to it. The significance being that the two years that one Dr Johnathon Dee had been allotted to train Harry Potter, was up. And Dee had made much use of that time.

_Yes, the time I have spent has been most productive. Whilst the boy was not swayed to the side and cause of the Dark Elders, it was delightful to teach such an apt pupil, who I daresay will not turn to the Light. At least not immediately. He has truly proven his heritage as the heir of the First Dreadlords, advancing so far and fast in Necromancy and other dark magics it is astounding. Whilst his people, (curse the hook-handed man for his vague hints) may have more in depth and advanced dark magics, or different varieties, they cannot boast to have been taught by the foremost Necromancer in the world. _

Though it was not particularly well known, amoung the group of those who study nnecromancy, Dee was the currant Dreadlord, not only for his dark magic and skill in basic Necromancy, but also for his numerous improvements to the field. Because creating ones own minions, is a sign of a talented necromancer, and everyone around the world, knew that to be the immortal Magician's calling card.

Dee leaned back in his office chair, reminiscing about teaching the boy. He was in his secure office, glancing at the moniters and keeping an eye on the time for which Marethyu was supposed to be here.

_I suppose it is a character flaw of mine, but I truly cannot help being so smug that the boys battle strategy so closely resembles mine. A love for minions and overly powerful attacks. What more can one ask from a student._

_-_**FLASHBACK**

"Harry, sit down with me." Ordered Dee. It was several days after the boy had appeared, and they had just finished the majority of Dee's in depth testing.

They both sat down in chairs in the ballroom, which was currently serving as the training room.

"Now, what do you know of battle tactics?" Dee asked.

"Well, I don't know about armies and stuff, but if its just one person your supposed to hit him." Harry said, almost shyly.

"Well that may do for regular humans, but we are not regular humans. We have magic." Instructed Dee. Dee stood up and started pacing. "Many immortals have different methods of fighting. This is based on their personality and circumstances. Nicolas Flamel does not have a naturally powerful aura. His aura reserves are comparatively low, and only through centuries of hard work have they become very big. Also his type of immortality has an effect as well, as he effectively ages if he uses too much power. However, that has trained him to use his attacks cunningly. His habit is to only attack when he feels sure that it will connect. And because of this mindset, he is extraordinarily dangerous. He wastes no energy with pointless attacks, his experiences in the past have taught him to use power efficiently, and in the most lethal ways possible. This is quite dangerous for both the attacker and him, because he has a stigma against using power frivolously. He would rather kill before an attack is thrown, than defend. This makes him especially dangerous as he has had centuries to perfect his alchemy, and I am not ashamed to say that he far outstrips me in this regard, though I have practice in some of the darker Alchemies. However, this strategy has several weaknesses, the biggest of which is Flamels refusal to use too much power defending."

Dee held out his hand and his sulferous aura leaped around him, like a tame dog. At the other side of the ballroom, a chest flew over to Dee and opened, revealing a human skeleton. Dee started chanting under his breath and the skeleton assembled itself and stood up, bringing with it the stench of brimstone.

"My whole life has been devoted towards fighting the Flamels. I have also had run-ins with other Elders and Immortals, some of them hostile. What my fighting style is, is directly based and molded to be the antithesis of Flamel's. I am incredibly good at creating minions, so to wear down the Flamels, as their attacks are less effective against them and I can create many of them. I am skilled at making Homunculi, Tulpas, Golems, and I am a Master at Necromancy, much of which centers around minions. I am also a fair hand at summoning. What I have found, is that the safest way to fight, is like playing a card game. You send the worthless cards at the other player until they are almost beat, and then you use your ace. You. You are your own Ace. And if you are powerful, you can use all the end-game heavy attacks you want."

"So how do I know what kinds of attacks use?" Asked Harry.

"I will teach you how to get your pawns, so to speak, and then I will show you some more powerful attacks. Now repeat to me the Necromantic Chants"...

-**PRESENT**

_Yes, it was interesting. I can even remember the time that little Harry got his nickname._

Dee sipped his brandy and thought back to the physical training he had put his apprentice through. They had gone to Germany, to train with some of the Dark aligned vampires. It was fun and the nickname they picked was oddly appropriate, even if some of what they were teaching was not.

-**FLASHBACK**

Harry was in an abandoned warehouse with his two teachers, with a man tied up and gagged in the corner and Dee scrying the scene.

Nora, the blond-haired vampire smiled erriely at Harry. Harry ignored it like usual.

"Now little Harry, this is your final test before you go back home." Nora smiled, in her odd mix of sisterly love and sadistic insanity. "

"What will I have to do Nora?" Asked Harry, in his child-like voice.

"You will have to kill the man tied up there. Then you will fight us both. If you can overcome us, you get a special prize." Interrupted Moira, pushing her black hair out of her face.

"Did he do anything? I mean, I'll do it, but I am a little curious." Asked Harry, his face neutral.

"Well he was a lawyer that cheated his clients. Till he made the mistake of cheating a vampire." Nora said, her words getting more unintelligible as her German started getting more accented and rapid.

"Noooooraaa, you know I can't understand you when you get pissed off, you just speak too fast. Dee taught me enough to be fluent, but I just can't follow." An irate Harry whined.

"Oh your so adorable when your angry. Was I going too _fast _for you? Was it just too _hard?"_ Nora cooed, bad mood instantly forgotten.

"... You're weird." Said Harry bluntly.

"And that's what you get for flirting with a seven year old. He doesn't even get it."Muttered Nora.

" Honestly, slow down a little Nora, and calm down those pedo tendencies. You do not need to shag everything that walks, swims or crawls." Said a chastising Moira.

"Ok Harry, any time now." Nora said, still disappointed that she didn't get her fun.

Harry shrugged and walked over to the man. Exuding his aura like Dee had taught him, he began manifesting it in a conjuration. His emerald green aura flared around him, and began concentrating into tentacles of fog, no longer emerald, but a deep poisonous green that looked like toxic waste. The tentacles combined, and Harry forced it up against the lawyers face. It started trickling through his nostrils and pouring into the mans mouth, until it looked like something from a horror film. The man struggled for a little, but then died, asphyxiating on the tentacles of chlorine poison gas.

Moira's eyebrow raised. Impressive" she granted. Coming from her, it was a compliment, as she was generally the more sober of the two vampires.

"Alright, now we fight." Said Nora, grinning maliciously.

Harry's aura flared about him , concentrating in a bubble around him. His aura started concentrating into a dozen small spheres of auric power. They started orbiting him like little moons and sparks of green lightning started dancing between them. Nora started strolling towards him and when she got close, bolts of lightning all shot into the sphere nearest her, and let out a thunderous chain lightning aimed at her. Caught off guard, Nora was blasted several matters back, body smoking.

Harry smirked and started chanting one of the more difficult Necromantic chants.

_"Mors Vita Sanguinis Imperium Magicae Fortitudo Cadaver_

The air grew colder and soon ones breath could be seen. The shadows grew, and Harry's words began to reverberate in an awful unholy harmony. The corpse of the lawyer began to rise. A chilling grey aura wrapped itself around the corpse, and it turned and glared at Moira, who was using her vampiric speed to dodge the bolts of lightning and destroy the spheres. Just as the last of them burst, the newly created draugr darted at her, unnaturally fast and completely silent.

While Moira was tangling with the powerful corpse, Nora had recovered and was now sprinting at the child. Harry raised his hand and threw a bolt of fire at her. Nora dodged and decked him, causing to go flying back. Harry smirked again and raised his hand, and gestured oddly. Nora turned around and the fireball was still there, just lying on the ground. A whirlwind began swirling around the fireball, and Harry gestured again. His aura flared and Nora could feel herself being pulled into the conjured gravity well. Which happened to be in the whirlwind. Which Harry had just transmuted into pure oxygen with alchemy. Fuck. A tornado of fire rose up from the ground and objects were pulled in indiscriminately. Nora was pulled in and burned. The tornado soon dissipated, as Harry didn't want her to die, but he knew that she was not out of the fight yet, despite sustaining heavy burns.

Meanwhile, the draugr and Moira were evenly matched, as Moira had the edge in strength and speed, but the draugr was still more durable and some basic magic. In addition, it was much stronger than a human, so the two were stalemated. As the draugr released a wave of compressed air at Moira, Harry joined the fight even as she was blasted into the wall and closeby boxes were reduced to splinters. Harry lashed out with a whip made of fire before she could get her bearings, and it coiled around her. The draugr dashed over and held Moira as she was being bound. She started thrashing, and the draugr sucked out the air from around her with its crude powers.

A little known fact is that while vampires don't need to breath, under certain circumstances they could black-out...such as subjecting to an instant depressurization of atmosphere. The whip was able to coil and bind her while the draugr held her tightly.

Seizing the oppertunity, Harry began reciting another Necromantic chant, this one to paralyze all the cells in the target's body, and force them into a Necromantic state of suspended animation.

_"Vita Corpus Sanguinis Caro Somnus OBSTUPEFACIO"_

The air grew to be nearly freezing, and tendrils of Harry's aura invaded Moira's mouth and nose. She grew stiff, almost like a corpse, and her eyes turned an inky black.

Meanwhile Nora was slowly stirring, her eyelids closed to feign sleep. She heard footsteps coming towards her, and launched herself at the being. The draugr was caught off guard by this sudden attack, and was subsequently torn into pieces. She then snarled at Harry, and threw a nearby piece of wood, trying to knock him out. When that didn't work, she tackled him, and they started fighting hand to hand. Neither were able to get an advantage, given that the vampire was naturally superior, but Harry augmented his strength and laced his skin and clothing with his aura, electricuting Nora every time either of them landed a hit.

"I WILL WIN!" Harry yelled out, getting infuriated. He clapped his hands together, creating a shockwave that blasted back Nora. He then held out his hands, and blasted a virtual holocaust of liquid flames, that looked a sort of bluish white. Nora was blasted back, and fell unconscious from the burns she received.

Harry stood for a second then staggered to his knees with all the power he was casually throwing around. Dee walked into the room from the secret room he was observing from, and said "Impressive."

Dee then drew his aura around him, and blasted it outwards, blowing away all of the residual magic and spells used save for the Necromantic ones, which Harry had to dispel himself. The wounds and burns on the vampires healed over and when they were able, they both stood up and gave him an appraising eye.

"Now that you are done with your training, you need a name. And you shall be called Feuersturm, our little firestorm, burning out of control." Cooed Moira.

Harry gave Moira a flat look.

"Well, we did say that we had a treat for you should you win." Nora suddenly said cheerfully.

"There is a rock concert down the road, which we have tickets for." Said Moira.

They linked arms with Harry and frogmarched him through the door and down the streets, Dee following bemusedly.

They arrived at the concert and had a good time, the vampires getting drunk and flirtatious with the bewildered seven year old. Until the last band. The musicians came out on stage, and Moira whispered to Harry, "Hey, that band is all vampires". The cheering for the goth punk girl-band reached a high, when the lead singer came out on stage. Instantly both Dee and the vampires turned stone-cold sober.

"Fuck,fuck, fuck, fuck fuck! Damn you Dee, we should have known this would happen." Moira hissed.

"What we need to do is stay calm and exit without drawing her attention." Said Dee calmly, with a hint of worry.

"Who is she?" Harry said.

"That leader singer, is Scathatch the Shadow. The Warrier Maid, the Kingmaker, the Daemon Slayer. That vampire there, is the most deadly martial artist in the world, quite possibly the most dangerous physical warrier in the world. She is a Second Generation Elder, and is allied with the Flamels. She vehemently opposes all the Dark." Explained Dee.

"I.E. us."Nora muttered poisonously.

"So if she's the most dangerous opponent possible, how dangerous does that make her." Harry asked nervously

"She has destroyed entire civilizations singlehandedly." Moira bit out.

Harry paled. "Oh"

The group started moving toward the exit. Only to come to a complete stop when they saw that Scathatch was signing photos near it. Turning around, they realized that it was the only way out. They started moving towards the exit, head down hoping she wouldn't notice them. In hindsight, that was a rather ridiculous hope. As soon as the groups auric scents washed over Scathatch her head whipped around and glared at the motley group. Her face tightened oddly, and became sharp and angular with fangs exposed. She began striding towards them, shoving her fans out of the way.

"We are so fucked" muttered Nora sullenly.

"Well, what do we have here? The English Magician, two dark vampires, and a rather powerful little boy. Not gunna lie, you guys have to be the weirdest group of fans I've ever met." Said the teenage looking vampire, in a rather sarcastic tone of voice.

"We came to introduce young Harry to some music. I personally prefer classical music." Said Dee, rather coldly, biting out the barb.

"What are you doing with the kid. I never expected you of all people to be paternal or anything like that." Said Scathatch hostilely.

"A pet project that someone put me up to. It was not my idea but it has turned out somewhat pleasant to have an apprentice." Said Dee neutrally.

"Who put you up to this. And you kid, are you here of your own free will? Asked a now slightly concerned Scathatch.

"Yeah I am, I'm learning a lot, and my patron said that I had to learn from Dee to play in the game." Said a cheerful Harry.

"Patron? I've never heard that term to describe an Elder master. Cradle robbing these days?" Scathatch said, directing her last question to Dee.

Dee switched over to an archaic form of Chinese which was only comprehensible to him and Scathatch. "It is indeed an interesting story. But someone is playing a game here, and this player is a near unknown. Unknown power, influence, even identity. But I do not believe that this player is an Elder, and my own masters know not of this, or if they do, they choose not to interfere."

"Oh really?" Asked Scathatch in the same language, inwardly surprised. "Who could possibly be able to make you come running?"

"The hook-handed man. Who else could be such an effective puppet-master?" Dee said smugly, watching her face for reaction.

He was not disappointed. Scathatch was struck dumb, and her jaw dropped.

"I, I need to think about this." Said Scathatch, stumbling over her words.

She practically ran out of there.

-**PRESENT**

The door opened to Dee's office. Dee snapped out of his reminiscing and satred at the opening. A tall figure in a black cloak walked into the room, light glinting off his metallic Hook.

Death entered the office.

-**AN**

**Sorry if this chapter sucks guys, I just had to figure out a good way to describe Dee's training. No one reviewed so I decided to throw in Nora and Moira as candidates for friends with benefits if I feel that there needs to be some love. Please review guys, and help provide some direction to the story. I am going to try to update on Saturdays, so expect it coming around then. If anyone has suggestions, pairings, etc please review. And favorite and follow but also review. Pls? Also sorry for the wait time, I just got a bit distracted and had some writers block but I think I will be good now. I will skip around training because I don't know how to write it in well, except with time skips and flashbacks. Ironically, canon says that Scathatch actually was in Germany at that point in a band, so not that much creative license was taken. Also, I will be using my own blend of Necromantic concepts for my story, so I will hop around using different types of undead, and don't assume that these are the types from Skyrim or other such games. I'm just making it up, with the same names.**


	8. Chapter 8

I** own nothing. Still.**

AURA CHART:

N. Flamel-Mint

P. Flamel-None

Dee-Sulfer/Brimstone

Machiavelli-Snakes

Dumbledore-Lemon Drops(couldn't resist)

Snape-Burning Tire Rubber

Sirius-Wet Dog(again couldn't resist)

Lupin-Leather

Voldemort-Blood

McGonagall-Vineger

Molly Weasley-Flour

Pomfrey-Bleach

Ron-Artificial Grape Flavoring

Hermione-Books/Dust

Marethyu- Thousand Year Old Orange's

Sprout-Fresh Earth

Neville-Grass

Draco-Bleach

Lucius-Bleach

Narcissa-Smelling Salts

Tonks-Bubblegum

Luna-Sea Breeze

*Note that I may not use all of these characters or describe their auras, its just an aid for you and I to remember which is what. Review if I forgot one. If its an important character I will add it. But I'm not adding auras for people as obscure as Daedalus Diggle.

**Necromantic Key**

***in order of power**

**Corporeal-**

**Zombie/Reanimated Corpse/Inferi**

**Ghoul(Similar to Zombies but faster, stronger and flesh-eating)**

**Skeleton(Regenerating powers)**

**Wight(Magic/Life/Energy-draining Undead. Strengthens with magic and life)**

**Vampire(Stereotypical vampire with similar powers. Hard to control due to sentience)**

**Flesh Golem(Extremely strong, fast and durable servant. Little sentience but is nigh unkillable due to regeneration. Think Frankenstein)**

**Revenant(Spirit of vengeance given body. Strengthens with emotions, semi-empathetic. Can utilize minor necromantic battle magic, and is unnaturally fast, strong, and durable)**

**Draugr(Physically superior to most undead, it utilizes powerful intent-based magic)**

**Lich(Sentient undead, with powerful magic, both intent based and necromantic. Lich Lords can summon undead.)**

**Mummy(Powerful Magic wielding corpse. Creates of the corpse add powerful enhancement charms and enchantments, as well as the ability to drain life like a wight. Top tier of corporeal undead)**

_My dear friend stopped his drinking, smoking, overeating, and womanizing ways all at the same time. It was a lovely funeral._

_-Unknown_

**Chapter 8: The Burning Words**

"And now, I think I shall teach you the Burning Words. They will go nicely with your affinity for fire." Said Gilgamesh.

It had been a couple years since Dee and Harry parted ways. Neither Dee nor Marethyu spoke of the meeting between them. Even when Harry asked nicely. After the mysterious meeting, Marethyu took Harry and drove into London. They pulled over to the curb of some highway, picked up some homeless guy, and left. Apperently this was the immortal Gilgamesh the King. And Merlin. Go figure.

"Cool. So I was reading a fantasy book the other day, and I think I might be a fire-elementalist." Said an excited Harry.

"Really?" Smirked Gilgamesh. "Well, I have a potion for you to try to see if you are one." Gilgamesh walked over to the potions lab, and busied himself there, our of Harry's view. Gilgamesh returned holding a vial of some clear, colorless potion.

"Is that Veritaserum? Harry asked warily.

"Nope. Now drink."

Harry drank the substance and looked at it curiously.

"It sure tasted like Veritaserum. Whats the name of this potion?" Asked Harry.

"The Gullibility Potion" answered a smirking Gilgamesh in a rather dry voice. "The ingredients are human stupidity and common tap water."

"Really?" Harry asked naively.

Gilgamesh rolled up a newspaper, and smacked Harry upside the head.

"New Commandment of Magic:Thou shalt not apply fantasy to magic." He said.

Harry glared at him and asked "So why can't I become a fire elementalist?"

"Did Dee teach you nothing?" Gilgamesh began exasperatedly. "A Fire Elemental is a spirit of fire, a mindless raging inferno that seeks to consume everything. There is no such thing as a fire elementalist as fire elementals are intristically not human. The closest thing to what you envision is a Master of Fire. However I don't believe that you should be one, as it has a similar effect on your soul that becoming an Animagus does."

"Oh, like when you said that it leaves an imprint on their soul and starts to characterize them? Like Salazar Slytherin?" Asked Harry.

"Precisely. Mastery of Fire is a level above traditional magics. But it enforces a tendency to use only that. It is rare that Le Comte St. Germain uses anything other than fire, though he is an alchemist near Flamel's level. It imprints on ones soul. Flamel is known as the Alchemist, and Germain is the Master of Fire. But Dee and Perenelle and Machiavelli are known for their combinations of magic that make them more dangerous then those others. Flexibility is key." Lectured Gilgamesh. "However the Burning Words are the Wizarding equivalent to that. They are the invocations of the essence of fire. While there are other spells that create fire, the Burning Words summon the essence of fire, making it stronger and stabilizing it with every additional invocation. The last invocation is what sets the purpose of the summoning. Depending on which variation of the chant that you use, you can summon true Gubraithian Fire, true Fiendfyre, Dragonfire etc. It is literally the most dangerous fire spell there is. The Burning Words has been lost to time though, and only the last invocation is used to summon a corrupted version of the spell. The spells ate much weaker an much harder to use. Corrupted Gubraithian Fire is purple flames and requires heavy ritual use to stabilize enough to never burn out. Fiendfyre on the other hand is only semi-sentient and is very hard to control, having a tendency to turn on its castor." Said Gilgamesh.

"I will not do as we have done before, and simply let you try it until you get it. For our safety, I will have to cast this myself."

Harry looked on questioningly. "But I thought that you couldnt use magic?" He asked curiously.

"It is common knowledge that I have no aura. However it is not common knowledge as to where it went. My aura compressed into a magical core with incredibly powerful walls around it. However my core is much more powerful than others. All cores are equal but some are more equal than others. And the founding of the Wizarding World should be able to use magic, don't you think? There was a special staff I used which was bonded to me and thus could reach past my core barriers like they weren't there. And due to my cursed immortality, channeling infinate magic has no negative effect on me. So I became the most powerful wizard in history. However during Camelot's final battle, my staff was broken and Vivian, the Elder who created it retreated from human contact. However, in exchange for my services, I have been given a new one by Marethyu, and with it I could access my magic to reform my Occlumency barriers and retain my sanity and memories." Explained Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh stood up and held out his wizened hand. Particles of light began floating between his fingers like little motes of dust. They began growing larger and merged together, forming tendrils of light that twisted into each other, forming a eleborate black and silver staff, with abstract whorls and swirls wrapping around it. He raised it up high and began chanting.

"_Ignis Fax Ardor Flamma"_

A slow flickering began, an orange aura of fire. His eyes began to glow orange and the temperature of the air around him began rising.

_"Lumen Lychinus Candor Fulgor"_

The aura began glowing brighter, almost incandescent as it wrapped around him. The very aiairaround the pair became charged and crackling with energy and for the first time in centuries, the scent of the sea drifted out, at first timidly, then spreading itself out, stretching and stifling as it emerged from its tight cramped space.

_"Incendium Incaendium Combustio Flagrantia"_

Now the figure Gilgamesh had no definition, a siloette that glowed brighter than the sun. Toungues of flame could be seen licking up the staff and occasionally licking at the ground, leaving melted impressions on the ground.

_"ARDEO FERVEO TORREO EXTERMINO"_

A prescence could be felt, a concept given life. Gravity itself seemed altered and tthe air was heavy with power, as a Being came forth. A sentience unlike any ever seen seemed to touch Harry's mind. It was like being in the presence of a god. Visions of fire came forth, ranging from a campfire, to a forest fire, to a magma flow, to a mushroom cloud of a nuclear explosion. Finally the image stopped at the sun. A globe of liquid fire, spinning unsupported in space with solar flares and tentacles of deadly plasma reaching out. This vision of destructive life-giving majesty awed Harry. A mischievious emotion bled into Harry's consciousness, and with the sensation that the Being winked at him, a final image of a grey stone sword flashed across Harry's mind.

_"**LUX AETERNA!"**_

The staff came down with an allmighty bang, and all the light, fire, heat and warmth was sucked into a tiny point on top of the staff. A tiny white flame danced cheerfully on the staff, as if it were filled with happiness. Gilgamesh waved his staff again and it was incased in a glass sphere on a gold chain. The glass was etched with softly glowing gold runes and the flame gave off a happy warming light.

"Let us call this a gift to you. It is a Gubrathian flame which embodies positive emotions. Touch it and you will fond yourself feeling the positive emotion you are most in need of. And should you ever have a creature against you which is empathetic, it will drive them away. It will also aborbs your aura and power as a powersink. Since an eternal flame needs no fuel, you can store infinite power within it forever. It may also be used as a focus should you ever need it, though it would always be more effective to use a physical conjugation of your aura to focus your core, in lieu of a wand." Said Gilgamesh gently, obviously a little exhausted from the magic.

"Thank you, Gilgamesh." Said Harry, still awed from the encounter.

-Elsewhere...

A tree deep in the mountains of America shook itself, and twisted around as if alive. A distict crackling could be heard as the wizened wood came to life. The ebbing steady exchange of magic gave way to a flood of magic and life. Roots, thick as arms and hard as iron dug deep, rooting themselves in the earth. They reached deeper and deeper, searching, digging, tunneling toward their goal. Finally, fathoms deep in the bedrock the roots struck gold. The roots were drinking from the Everwell. Finally a new entrance, after the eld had been sealed up in the Lost City.

Power came rushing up, like a flood, like an ocean. Where before the Methuselah Tree had stood like a wizened old man, now grew a tall dignified tree, revitilized into its prime. An older looking women waved her hands, and at her behest, the very leylines of San Francisco bent towards the Tree like light to a black hole.

Magic, fresh, bubbling green, yet somehow ancient and powerful, gushed out of the Tree, flooding the leylines. If any had been able to see it, they would have been witness to a neon green flood, crossing the leylines, traversing the oceans like a bolt of lightning. The viridian flood zigzagged over the Atlantic at the speed of sound, forcibly reopening the full potential of the leylines as it went. It flew to Stonehenge, and then divided in a flurry of motion. One line went to the Reciever and a magical shockwave could be felt as it blasted it to full capacity, and amplified it, reactivating all the ley lines.

But one line from Stonehenge traveled back to London, splitting off from the main line, heading into smaller and smaller lines, crossing from ocean, to bay, to tributary, to river, to stream, until finally the original thread was a minute thing, yet with still the power and purpose it was created for. It diverged from the town line it was in, and dove deep into the countryside, until it came to a large manor. It slowly curled its way up into the manor, coming to the bedroom of a youbg 10 year old boy. But this boys was not like others. For he was a wizard, and was born as the seventh month died...

The tendril of energy dove into his body, filling and expanding the magical channels in his body. Then it came to the center of the body, the core which was protected by barriers so thick he was nearly a Squib. The tendril curled around the core like a snake, and squeezed. The barriers were strong, but were no match for the jade energy. The barriers caved in on themselves and the tendril curled around the core in its place, a living barrier of roots and plants. It cut itself off from the flow, and then gently nudged at the boy. Neville Longbottom sat straight up in bed, eyes glowing a unnatural greenish brown. The scent of cut grass and soil began to fill the air around him. And Mother was smiling down at him.

**AN- Ok got inspired and bored and impressed by the response to my last chapter, so I thought I would make up for my screwup with the last chapter with a new one. Please review, it makes me happy. And update faster. Hope the pyromaniacs enjoyed the implications of this chapter, and the necromancer lovers love the implications of my Necromancy Key. Yes Harry is powerful. And yes he will be an evil pyro necromancer with badass spells. Cause thats how I would do it. Love yall.**

**-Lucifer**

**(Ps. Necromancer lovers, check out my badass Necro community. "Blood, Bone and Chaos Sown".**

**Necromancer!Harry over 30k words**


	9. Chapter 9

I** own nothing. Still.**

AURA CHART:

N. Flamel-Mint

P. Flamel-None

Dee-Sulfer/Brimstone

Machiavelli-Snakes

Dumbledore-Lemon Drops(couldn't resist)

Snape-Burning Tire Rubber

Sirius-Wet Dog(again couldn't resist)

Lupin-Leather

Voldemort-Blood

McGonagall-Vineger

Molly Weasley-Flour

Pomfrey-Bleach

Ron-Artificial Grape Flavoring

Hermione-Books/Dust

Marethyu- Thousand Year Old Orange's

Sprout-Fresh Earth

Neville-Grass

Draco-Bleach

Lucius-Bleach

Narcissa-Smelling Salts

Tonks-Bubblegum

Luna-Sea Breeze

*Note that I may not use all of these characters or describe their auras, its just an aid for you and I to remember which is what. Review if I forgot one. If its an important character I will add it. But I'm not adding auras for people as obscure as Daedalus Diggle.

**Necromantic Key**

***in order of power**

**Corporeal-**

**Zombie/Reanimated Corpse/Inferi**

**Ghoul(Similar to Zombies but faster, stronger and flesh-eating)**

**Skeleton(Regenerating powers)**

**Wight(Magic/Life/Energy-draining Undead. Strengthens with magic and life)**

**Vampire(Stereotypical vampire with similar powers. Hard to control due to sentience)**

**Flesh Golem(Extremely strong, fast and durable servant. Little sentience but is nigh unkillable due to regeneration. Think Frankenstein)**

**Revenant(Spirit of vengeance given body. Strengthens with emotions, semi-empathetic. Can utilize minor necromantic battle magic, and is unnaturally fast, strong, and durable)**

**Draugr(Physically superior to most undead, it utilizes powerful intent-based magic)**

**Lich(Sentient undead, with powerful magic, both intent based and necromantic. Lich Lords can summon undead.)**

**Mummy(Powerful Magic wielding corpse. Creates of the corpse add powerful enhancement charms and enchantments, as well as the ability to drain life like a wight. Top tier of corporeal undead)**

_There is nothing in the world more stubborn than a corpse: you can hit it, you can knock it to pieces, but you cannot convince it._

_-Alexander Herzen_

**Chapter 8: Necromantic Playtime**

Harry was playing with a corpse. This was not a unique phenomenon given his skill in Necromancy, but this was not just idle playing. Harry was a man on a mission. To recreate the weirdest magical accident that is worth repeating.

"What are you doing Harry?" Asked Gilgamesh as he entered the Lab. A place he usually tried to avoid.

"I am working." Said Harry, stubbornly shoving his hand past the lungs of the body and grasping around at the ribs.

"What are you working on that requires you to be covered in blood?" Asked Gilgamesh, eyebrow raised.

"I am trying to create a very special servant" said Harry absentmindedly. "What do you know of the origins of house elves?"

"House elves? I don't think anyone knows about the origins of the house elves." Said a confushed Gilgamesh.

Harry paused in his work, and walked over to the sink, washing the blood off his hands, then turned to face his mentor. "The Necromancers Guild knows. Basically what happened was a complete accident. It basically started with a conjurer. This conjurer was fairly proficient at summoning demons, but he wanted an assistant for his lab and experienments. So he began dabbling in homunculi. However, he sucked at it. He was too much in his his conjurer mindset and so used far too much magic, which warped the constructs, making them look like ugly little children.

However, this conjurer had owed some money to the Necromancers Guild. So the Guild sent out an Elder and a Novice for the learning experience. When they got there, they caught the conjurer trying to escape and tried to stop him. The Novice began a necromantic chant, trying to raise the homunculi. But the conjurer began the summoning of a Greater Demon, and recognizing the danger, killed the conjurer right before he named the Demon. However, the Novices chant was imperfect, and the conjurer had only reached the point where he summoned the life and soul before he was killed.

The Novice couldn't raise the homunculi as they had never been alive in the first place, but the summoning that was cut off, began to summon life and soul energy and botched up the Chants. The necromancer raised them, then they developed souls and came to True Life, but still retained chractoristics of the botched up wight and draugr hybrid that happened by accident. The incident had created a new species, and when it came to life, the residual magics that the conjurer had embued the creatures with, activated. The conjurer had used binding spells for servitude meant for Greater Demons on it, so the new species was embued with a ridiculous amount of obedience, love for work, and demonic intent based energy as well as the wights magic draining ability. The elves detected that their master was dead, and out of loyalty, completely curb-stomped the Novice and Elder for revenge, and sent the dismembered parts to the Guild. Out of embarrassment, the Guild never mentioned it again."

"So why are you making one instead of buying one?" Asked a curious Gilgamesh.

"Elves are racist. Given that they still have the ancestral bindings on them, they keep a collective memory and all of them hate Necromancers, given that we killed their first Master. Its also the same reason that you never see elves needing training for household chores. Anyway, this body here, is a bit of an experiment as to which features I should put on it. I already have an idea of how I want to make them, but I don't want to get my materials and then waste them because I botched up some customization spell. I have been trying to replicate the transportation they use. I started with wizarding apparation."

Harry raised his hand and a corpse in the corner rose up and walked over to an circle enscribed on the ground. Harry snapped his fingers and it twisted in place. An earsplitting crack was heard, and a slab of flesh appeared at the other side of the room. Blood rained down over the floor as well as some body parts that fell to the ground in a wet splatting sound.

"Splinched. I have been using draugr as test subjects because thats similar to what the elf magic is like. OI YOU! STOP MOANING AND PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER TO REGENERATE! Buncha deadbeats."

Harry cleared his throat, apperantly unconcerned with the blood.

"So I had went back to observe house elf Apparation, and realized that isn't Apparition at all. See, elves have a sort of pseudo-soul that allows them to live, but is a result of their creation. Since their soul has demonic charactoristics, house elves can be summoned. And since they don't have true souls and are on this plane, they need no ritual to be summoned. If you yell the name of a random house elf, it acts as a summoning ritual, and brings them there. And when the elf wants to travel, they send a portion of their mind to astral travel to the location, then nonverbally summon their souls to it. Thus, they are able to circumvent all wards known to wizardkind. I've tried a similar method with new corpses and that is going slightly better but they keep making a side trip to hell."

Harry waved his hand to bring over a corpse. Once again, he snapped his fingers and it disappeared. However when it reappeared this time, it was smoldering with the scent of burnt flesh, huge bites had evidently been taken out if it.

Harry shrugged at Gilgamesh and plunged his hand into the current corpse, sending blood splattering across the walls. Gilgamesh quietly left while Harry was abosrbed in his work.

Three Days Later...

"Ok, lets see, I have a sacrifice, the ritual circle, and the summoning chants. I have also prepared the host homunculi body, and prepped it with a premade soul. That had been a tricky boggart to catch however."

Harry shrugged off his cloak and looked at his preparations. The body of the homunculus was created, with a energy funnel for the chants and a premade soul ready to go. His binding and enchantments were all finished to allow the perfect amount of free will yet keeping obedience. The runic tattoos were done for telepathic amplification and protection. He was ready to make himself a servant.

"_Mors, Vita, Sanguinis, Imperium, Fortitudo, Cadaver, Haurientes" _chanted Harry.

Moving quickly to do the summoning before time ran out he quickly chanted a few phrases in Latin.

_"Monem Seniores Deos Et Vocavi Vos, Et Non Vitae Justo. Audite Vocem Meam"._ Harry quickly broke it off there as he did not want to inadvertantly summon anything. The bloody rune circle began to glow a demonic reddish black, and slightly pulsate on each syllable.

Panicking slightly, Harry cast a few spells of binding before activating the energy vortex. The demonic power began flowing into the vessel, and the necromantic ritual began to take effect. The black energy and the red energy began clashing for dominance, the necromantic power wanting to raise the body, the summoned energy seeking to possess it. Harry thrust his prefabricated soul into the host and the energies stabilized and began working together in an odd sort of tandem. They combined together and anchored the soul to the body. All the energy in the room began swirling around the body and blasted into it. A red and black shock wave blew Harry back, but the work was done, his servant complete.

Harry came running full speed into the kitchen.

"Gilgamesh, I did it! I finished the servant!" Burst out Harry excitedly.

"Really? I seem to remember a number of failures. Well, you may as well introduce me." Said a patiently smiling Gilgamesh.

"Ok. Jerry!" Yelled Harry.

What appeared to be a butler in a muggle suit appeared. His face was rather strange, as it kept changing to be more bland and unassuming than the last face. He dusted off his grey suit, and looked at Gilgamesh with offputting jet black eyes.

"I am Jerry. How might I serve?" The thing asked.

"Can you make us something to eat?" Asked Harry excitedly.

"I could." Said Jerry.

"Like now?" Asked a slightly confused Harry.

"I could even do it right now." Smirked Jerry.

"So why don't you?" Asked a now disgrutled Harry.

"Two reasons. One of your enchantments requires me to take what you request literally. You must carefully word your commands. Second, is that I have only just been created. I do not know how to do anything." Said an amused Jerry.

"Fine. Pop off and mind-rape one of those racist midgets then. No doubt you be able to force your way into the house-elf collective. I want you back soon, so only take from the skills memories in the collective mind." Said a still annoyed Harry.

"As you wish"Jerry said with a sardonic smile on his face. He bowed and popped away in a cloud of faint black smoke.

"Looks like you have your hands full with that one" said Gilgamesh as he snickered at Harry's predicament. "He is a little odd though. Was the host body a metamorphmagus?"

"No, soul was a boggart. That's why I spent so much time altering it, I wanted to give it sentience and memory, that is similar enough to a human that it doesn't freak people out. I also enhanced its empathetic and telepathic abilities. Boggarts are already very powerful in that as they are able to instantly rumage through someones mind to retrieve very abstract concepts and memories. And even better, Occlumency shields cannot keep him out, as his mind is on a different wavelength than humans. Since humans can only comprehend human attacks, they are unable to shield from something which thinks completely differently from them and uses a completely different form of mind-reading than they know how to defend against. Thus, boggarts and Dementors are able to slice through Occlumency shields. However Jerry now gets his food from me, so he doesn't have to shapeshift into terrifying things to feed. Overall I believe it was a success." Harry finished.

Jerry interrupted the awkward moment by popping in.

"Mission successful, young master." Jerry said while bowing.

"Good, now I order you to cook a full meal to reenergize me, that project took a lot out of me."

Jerry only smiled and popped away, coming back with several plates worth of food.

"How the bloody hell did you do that, I thought it was against the laws of magic for everyone?" Harry asked, dumbstruck.

"Ah. Well I was testing out my free will. I saw that the Department of Mysteries had been studying house elves in order to understand time magic. Apperantly they are some of the only creatures which live on this plane, who are powerful enough to use instinctive temporal magic with their intent-based magic as it is too complicated to understand without studying it while using wizarding magic. So while I was there, I simply lifted the memories of temporal magic from the elves, then did the same with the Unspeakables in the DoM." Jerry said, somewhat smugly.

"So to answer your question, I merely stopped time in a bubble around me to cook the meal extremely fast. However it did take a lot out of me, so I will go into stasis until you have need of me."

With that last statement, the boggart transformed into an inch-long snake and curled around Harry's finger, then solidifying into a gold ring with shaped like a snake.

"Well, that was decidedly odd. Let's eat." Said a cheerful Harry.

In a house far away, a girl was going mad. The house in question was decidedly odd, being a crooked structure of black stone in the shape of a fat stubby tower. Wind was blowing into the upper levels of the Rookery. In the middle of a room painted sky blue, a girl with blond hair and protrudent eyes was currently sobbing on the floor. It was that day, a year ago, that her mother died and ruined the life of Luna Lovegood.

_Why, mother why did you leave me? And why would you make me swear the damned oath?_

_×FLASHBACK×_

_As Selene Lovegood lay on the floor dying in front of her child, she reached a blood splattered and trembling hand out to her child._

_"Luna, before I die, I want you to set my heart at ease. Swear to me that you will never go evil, so that I may rest in peace" said the ethereal broken form of Selene._

_"I swear on my magic that I will never go evil, Mother." Luna agreed easily._

_×END FLASHBACK×_

That was when her troubles started. Luna had been a fairly nice child, but every child has their darkness. And when her mother died and the other children kept poking fun at her with no regards as to get feelings, that spark of resentment, grief and sorrow grew and grew, and was only matched by the terror at her magic beginning to become out of control. Such a terror led to more and more hatred, until there was a very dark little girl under the absent-minded mask she used.

She hated her mother for ruining her life, she hated her father for abandoning her when he cracked and she needed him most, and she hated the world for creating such a circumstance. Her only consolation was that in her madness, she had managed to convince herself that people are only evil if their actions are evil. She managed to keep a relatively decent control of her magic by doing good deeds and not what she felt she wanted. However, when she thought ill of her dead mother, she realized that she considered such an act evil, and the worst scenario possible occurred. She lost control of her gift and the Lovegood family magics.

Luna Lovegood was a lower tier Seer. She could see some possible futures and could search for them. However without control of that gift, she lost her only way of finding actions to do that aren't evil. However the more crucial issue was that she lost control of the Lovegood family magics. The Family magics were exceptionally dangerous, both for the recipent and the caster. A Lovegood must have total focus to keep their power from affecting them, thus leading to the rumor that the Lovegoods were dotty.

The Lovegoods were True Illusionists. They had the ability to fake any sensation a mind had. They could literally ensare the senses and make people believe that which they don't want to. Any sensation, from sight to sound, to feelings of emotions and familiarity. Losing control of that means that they experienced everything from their imaginations as real, and fabricate false memories for it. Luna would be stuck in a hallucination for a long time.

Because of her internal darkness, her hallucinations changed to match that. She looked out the window, and instead of a sky, she saw a sea of blood, seemingly defying gravity and floating inversely, falling out towards space. Where she thought the sun was before, instead it was a monstrously huge, black, tentacled, Lovecraftian nightmare which swam under the sea, emitting light.

She turned away and stifled a gasp. Her walls were dripping blood and a black tar-like substance climbed up one side of her wall. It was black, sticky, and viscous, and reflected light in odd ways. Eyeballs of many different sizes and colors spawned out of the ooze, just watching her. They were unnaturally large, and bloodshot with obsidian black veins.

She felt something touch her ear. She turned around, only to see a floating brain extend black tentacles towards the holes in her face. Nostrils, mouth, ears. They reached toward her and penetrated her face, black tendrils wrapping lovingly around her neck. Utter confusion reined in Luna, her madness becoming more fractured as the Lovegood Family Magics sought to twist and break Luna's thinking patterns, in accordance with what Luna thinks the brain would do to her.

It was a very odd sensation being hooked up to the brain, and whilst Luna couldn't think linearly, she was able to feel the brain and tentacles as if they were her own, her consciousness reaching out with the tentacles to feel herself with her new appendages. It was a very odd sensation.

"Alright, you can get off now Mr. Wrackspurt." Luna said dreamily.

The brain didn't budge and Luna resigned herself to trying to pull it off, somehow not even noticing that while the tentacles were inside her orifices, her breathing wasn't being constricted at all.

With an almighty yank, it came off, and Luna was left bleeding a seemingly black blood from her ears, nose, and eyes. It dribbled down Luna's face, to her discomfort, when she heard a metallic chittering noise. A black metal insect from nightmares had climbed her dress without her noticing. It gleamed with unholy evil, with an armored segmented body, and razor sharp steel legs, looking for all the world like a demonic centipede. Luna could feel the pricks in her skin as it climbed up and started chewing on her eyeballs.

The Lovegood Family magics swirled around the empty room, with their focus, the little girl. They had changed all of her senses, but now her very mind would fall prey to it. It floated into her mind and began altering memories, to give them the feeling that she knew that all of this was real but she couldn't see it before. Then it floated and wrapped itself around the part of her brain that distinguished truth from fiction, and dream from reality. Luna's mindscape began to fill with nightmares, demons, abominations from beyond the void, the likes of which could only be seen if someone fucked up big-time with time-turner. And deep within her mind, beyond where the Lovegood magic had reached, a well of anger and hatred began to boil.

-The Department of Mysteries

"Hey did you hear about what happened last night down in Temporal Division?" Asked a cloaked Unspeakable.

"No, but I do know that a group of 20 some workers were admitted to Psych. Does that have anything to do with it?" Asked the second Unspeakable.

"Yeah, basically they found the group passed out right in the middle of the lab, with heavy obliviations and traces of mind-reading. And get this, it wasn't human Legilimancy." Said Unspeakable No. 1.

"So that's why Ol' Ticker was so pissed off yesterday. I heard him muttering about how the crime scene had to be so fucked up that jumping back to witness it risked paradoxes the size of Cthulu. Though apperantly folks from Dimensional wanted to try anyways." Said Unspeakable No. 2.

"Go figure" Unspeakable No. 1 laughed. "Those guys from Dimensional Division are right nutters. Barmy, the lot of em. But at least they are friendly. The guys from Psych Division give me the heebie-jeebies. They are far too good with mind magics for my comfort. Mind-reading, Obliviation, Conditioning, Compulsion, the works. I heard a rumor going around that they were playing with the Imperious Curse and trying to attach it to an object to control mass amounts of people with."

A third Unspeakable walked over to them. "Hey guys, some experimental potion from Brewing Dev subdivision got on my wand. Can either of you identify it? I don't want to go anywhere near it before I am safe. You know how the guys from Experimental are."

The other two Unspeakables peered down at the wand.

"_Obliviate_!"

"You were just chatting about how bad the coffee is. You still have no idea what goes on in the other Departments, and you believe it is best to just mind your business." Instructed Unspeakable No. 3.

"I swear to God, the morons in this place gossip worse than old women. This is the third time this week for that pair."

The third Unspeakable stalked off angrily muttering to himself.

**AN-Got bored so did another chapter. I feel that this is better than the stereotypical, get a house elf servant to take care of your needs. I also think that it is a more realistic story about how the house-elves came to exist than the other stereotypical cursed High-Elves story. I hope I have put a new twist on Luna that is somewhat believable yet doesn't have her as a Seer. Well she is a Seer but thats not why she is nutty. And she can't use her abilities yet anyway. Can we get some love for Jerry, the amazing Boggart? Or my explaination as to why house elves can go through all wards? Yeah. Anyway. Rate, review, favorite follow, it makes me happy. But especially reviews.**


	10. Chapter 10

I** own nothing. Still.**

AURA CHART:

N. Flamel-Mint

P. Flamel-None

Dee-Sulfer/Brimstone

Machiavelli-Snakes

Dumbledore-Lemon Drops(couldn't resist)

Snape-Burning Tire Rubber

Sirius-Wet Dog(again couldn't resist)

Lupin-Leather

Voldemort-Blood

McGonagall-Vineger

Molly Weasley-Flour

Pomfrey-Bleach

Ron-Artificial Grape Flavoring

Hermione-Books/Dust

Marethyu- Thousand Year Old Orange's

Sprout-Fresh Earth

Neville-Grass

Draco-Bleach

Lucius-Bleach

Narcissa-Smelling Salts

Tonks-Bubblegum

Luna-Sea Breeze

*Note that I may not use all of these characters or describe their auras, its just an aid for you and I to remember which is what. Review if I forgot one. If its an important character I will add it. But I'm not adding auras for people as obscure as Daedalus Diggle.

**Necromantic Key**

***in order of power**

**Corporeal-**

**Zombie/Reanimated Corpse/Inferi**

**Ghoul(Similar to Zombies but faster, stronger and flesh-eating)**

**Skeleton(Regenerating powers)**

**Wight(Magic/Life/Energy-draining Undead. Strengthens with magic and life)**

**Vampire(Stereotypical vampire with similar powers. Hard to control due to sentience)**

**Flesh Golem(Extremely strong, fast and durable servant. Little sentience but is nigh unkillable due to regeneration. Think Frankenstein)**

**Revenant(Spirit of vengeance given body. Strengthens with emotions, semi-empathetic. Can utilize minor necromantic battle magic, and is unnaturally fast, strong, and durable)**

**Draugr(Physically superior to most undead, it utilizes powerful intent-based magic)**

**Lich(Sentient undead, with powerful magic, both intent based and necromantic. Lich Lords can summon undead.)**

**Mummy(Powerful Magic wielding corpse. Creates of the corpse add powerful enhancement charms and enchantments, as well as the ability to drain life like a wight. Top tier of corporeal undead)**

**Spirit-**

**Ghost(useless, basic building block for most spirits, completely unevolved spirit)**

**Poltergeist(Ghost which can interact with the living world)**

**Spectre(Ghost with minor empathetic powers and minor soul magic)**

**Banshee(being with strong empathetic powers, especially magically induced fear and insanity)**

**Phantom(Ghost with a necromantic aura and Soul Magic)**

**Shade(Ghost with powerful necromantic aura and Soul Magic. Also has necromantic shadow magic)**

**Wraith(Ghost with strong aura, empathetic, and soul magics. Some minor shadow magics and some necromantic magics)**

**Dementor(Demonic wraith with incredible Soul Magic, Empathy, and Auric magics. Have secret Dementor magics from the aura. Top tier spirit and both corporeal and incorporeal)**

_Sharing a room with a cadaver is only mildly different from being in a room alone. _

_They are the same sort of company as people across from you on subways or in airport lounges, there but not there. Your eyes keep going back to them, for lack of anything more interesting to look at, and then you feel bad for staring._

_-Mary Roach_

**Chapter 10: Homecoming(for the first time)**

"Well, it's been fun", said Harry, NOT at all emotional. That little shine in his eyes was from the yawning at how boring the car drive was. Totally disregarding the fact that Jerry teleported them all.

"It has truely been a pleasure to mentor you, young one." Gilgamesh smiled benevolently.

"My soul doesn't have enough capacity for emotion for me to give a shit about this disgusting exchange. Obviously another sign of my superiority. I will bring in the bags before I vomit." Said a inwardly disgruntled Jerry in a monotone voice. He was ignored by both parties. Obviously put out, Jerry shifted to a rather disturbing face that resembled G-Man from Half-Life. He then popped away in a puff of black smoke.

The two parties, Teacher and Mentor, stood hugging each other in front of Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey.

"Now, you may find it best to put a ward on yourself, to make people ignore you. You can shift you aura to that configuration, and then passively power your aura to keep up the energy. That way, you can power glamoura and minor fields indefinitely." Instructed Gilgamesh.

"Now, I know that many Immortals and Elders have been keeping an eye on me, and are no doubt having a fit that I disappeared. They are wary of me and I don't want them to know that I have magic again. It would be a disaster. So I will live in the Wizarding World, under my old name. People will either believe me, or they won't. I will not be drawing attention to myself however." Said the newly christianed 'Merlin'. "Now have a good time at Hogwarts, Harry!" He stepped back for a moment and smiled at Harry.

"Goodbye Gilg-Merlin. It has been wonderful being your apprentice." Said a very not tearful Harry. Those drops on his face were from rain. Ignore the blue sky and sun.

'Merlin' gave a sort of half smile, looking for all the world like a male, wrinkly Mona Lisa, and brought his staff to the ground. Sparks flew and Merlin was gone.

The meeting with his relatives had gone fairly well. Once past the ocean of screaming and denial, they grudgingly gave him Dudley's second bedroom, with the condition of not doing anything "freakish" and with the assurance that he would be leaving in a couple weeks for that "freak school".

Jerry was having fun too. He thought it was entertaining to stroll around frightening children under a Nightmare Ward, which would give any who come near, the feelling that whatever takes place has a surrealistic quality like dreams, and the memory would fade the farther from the ward you travel. Jerry thought it was especially funny to come to the crossroads at midnight, with a suit and glowing black eyes. Or just using his normal boggart abilities. All who witnessed it ran away screaming but could never remember what they were so afraid of, or that they were afraid in the first place.

The Letter to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry came, and Harry sent back his reply, accepting admission.

"Hey Uncle Vernon" said Harry at the breakfast table.

"What is it boy" Uncle Vernon growled.

"I need to go into London today. Could you give me a lift?" Asked Harry hopefully, poking feelings of encouragement at his uncles brain.

"Fine boy. I need to speak with the management of Grunnings today anyway." Said an annoyed Uncle Vernon.

After breakfast, they got in the car and drove over. Vernon dropped him off in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

"You don't need to wait for me, I will get my own ride home." Said Harry.

Vernon grunted something unintelligible and sped off.

"Jerry" said Harry.

There was a soft pop and puff of black smoke.

"I don't know why you didn't just have me transport you in the first place." Said the stoic butler.

"I need to keep up appearences, both for Vernon and for those who are undoubtedly watching the house." Pointed out Harry.

"Very well," said Jerry, not wanting to admit the point.

They strode into the Leaky Cauldron and Harry threw up an auric Notice-Me-Not. None of the patrons bothered looking at them. In the back alley, Harry transfigured his clothes into a fancy black muggle suit. He then put a strange pin on his chest. It was black, and had what appeared ro be a skull overlaying a circle with a 9 point star in it.

Harry caught Jerry looking and said, "It's for the Goblins. We want some good service today, and only the Goblins and oldest practitioners of black magic recognize it. Its an emblem of the Necromancers Guild. It serves as a warning, and if we are wearing it, it grants us the full authority of the Guild to defend our honor. I currently retain an Honorary Masters position, and a pending Liasion Position for the Magical World. The Guild doesn't really have much power in the Wizarding World ever since they banned Necromancy, but the badge gives me a sort of diplomatic immunity anyway. We may get very helpful people in Knockturn, if people recognize this."

Jerry shrugged, and touched the wall. The bricks began moving away from each other, forming a archway. They went through and saw Diagon Alley. Having no time to admire it, they walked with prupose towards the great marble building, labeled Gringotts. They entered the doors and saw the poem.

"_Enter stranger, but take heed,_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath these floors,_

_A treasure that was never yours, _

_Thief, you have been warned, beware,_

_Of finding more than treasure there..."_

"Paranoid, arrogant, little buggers, aren't they?" Said Jerry sardonically.

"Yes. To be fair though, they have been guarding the gold of Wizarding Britain for centuries now, with a very good success rate." Replied Harry.

The pair walked up to the nearest open teller, looking out of place in their Muggle suits.

"Name please" asked the grumpy goblin, not looking up from his work.

"Harry James Potter, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter." Harry said curtly.

Jerry looked the slightest bit awestruck for the first time. You could practically HEAR the capital letters in the sentence.

The Goblin looked up, surprise in his wide eyes, and right as he was starting to speak, he caught sight of the pin. The Death Emblem. He choked a little bit.

One of the unspoken rules of the Goblin Nation, was to not piss off certain people. Sure, the goblins were greedy, bitter, acerbic little basterds who got their jollies off by pissing off wizards in the formidable bureaucracy that was Gringotts, but every little goblin was taught from childhood, until it was engrained in their little cold black hearts, to never cross certain people. They made lists. Hell they had rhymes and pneumonic devices in Gobbledegook just to remember. Never piss off the supervisor above you. Then they micromanage, move you around, and generally fuck you over and make your life hell with the bureaucracy. Never piss off the Director *cough*Dictator*cough*. Only the coldest, blackest heart survives the power struggles, and thus the Director does not forgive, or forget, or comprehend mercy and its synonyms, in any sense of the words. And finally, do NOT EVER piss off the Necromancers Guild, as they are vengeful, powerful, sadistic basterds who don't keep money at Gringotts, thus closing the road for any negotiation outside monetary appeasement.

The poor, little teller was having a panic attack. Of course, these things do happen, including accidently breaking that rule, and thus there is a protocol, involving keeping on the trained poker face, and maliciously handing the client off to the supervisor overlords to handle. Such is the nature of bureaucracy.

Harry knew all this and was internally laughing at the teller's internal flailing. Both stood with straight faces, staring at each other, as the 11 year old contained his internal giggling and the teller concealed his panicked observation of playing the bureaucracy version of high-stakes Hot Potatoe.

"Ah. Mr. Potter. Please come with me so we can see your account manager. Do you have your key?" Asked Lagjack, the teller, with only a slight, nearly unnoticeable quaver in his voice.

They both knew Harry noticed.

"I don't have my key, thus I need all the keys destroyed, and a new one made, blood attuned." Harry said.

With that he reached over the counter and pricked his index finger on the machine for that purpose. The goblin nodded and said "Follow me Lord Potter."

_Who do I pass him off to... I really hate Lockjaw this week, and that means that he can explain to Potter why his account manager did a runner as soon as Potter entered the bank._

They continued walking until they were at the management offices. Lagjack stopped at a door and pushed it open.

"I present to you, Lockjaw, the Potter account manager. Lockjaw this is Lord Potter, or the incipent one anyway. He was just coming to discuss the 1% interest raise on his vaults, and do the audit."

Lagjack began walking into Harry's blind spot, and from there winked at Lockjaw, and rolled hisnl eyes towards the badge. He then smirked and walked out.

If Lockjaw had been human, he would look rather funny. He would have turned a deep red from anger, done a double take at the badge, then turned a sickly white. However, Lockjaw was a senior manager goblin at Gringotts. There was nothing that could outwardly faze him. Of course Jerry was smirking at the profuse swearing and screaming in GobbledeGook that he was picking up out of Lockjaw's thoughts.

"Ah, Mr. Lockjaw. I wish to perform an audit on the Potter accounts, get all my keys destroyed and have new ones made, with the blood protections, undergo a magical emancipation, and finally have all magical objects and money outside my vaults, summoned to my trust vault.. I will also need a linked coinpurse and I wish to grant my manservant Jerry, full access to my vault. His is a rather unique aura anyway, so you can use that to identify him. I also think that the deal on the 1% raise mentioned is a rather good one, given that I am unfreezing the Potter assets. I am sure it won't be any problem."

Harry smirked at how the little teller had managed to redirect his annoyance towards his enemy, and then set up appeasement at the same time. If nothing else, the goblins were entertaining.

"No it won't be any problem." Said the older goblin.

"Also, give the teller who assisted me a bonus. For being so helpful." Added Harry.

"Of course" said the inwardly fuming manager.

It was another unspoken rule at Gringotts that bribes were done retroactively. If for some unknown reason a goblin was generous, then whether or not a bonus was given afterwards would affect the relationship between Gringotts and the client afterwards. They were able to make it up with penalties if bonuses weren't given. This is the reason so many pure-bloods have trouble with the goblins.

"I trust you can take care of that. Have a productive day." Said Harry, snickering under his breath as he left the office.

"I will go fetch you your mundane equipment whilst you peruse Knockturn, if you wish." Said Jerry.

"Alright, thanks, that gives me an excuse for looking at the dark stuff for a couple hours. Meet up at Ollivanders at 2:00?" Asked Harry.

"Excellent idea. I will be off." Said Jerry.

Before he left the bank however, he shapeshifted into a dementor, and then used his demonic energy to strengthen the fake field of cold and dispair. He then floated through the Alley, gleefully sucking up peoples fear and going to Madam Malkins. His snickering manifested as a chilling rattle of the Dementors of Azkaban.

When he entered the shop, someone shot a Patronous at him. He was unaffected, and slowly turned his head to stare at them making sure that his eye sockets were just barely visible. He began laughing as the shop assistant who cast it, pissed themselves in fear, and the laughing came out as a deathly scraping rattle. He turned away, still happy with himself, and reached in his robe pocket. He wiggled his fingers and snapped them and a piece of parchment appeared in his pocket. He slowly drew it out and handed it to Madam Malkin, who by this time had come out and stopped, staring at the Dementor invading her shop.

She took a look down at it, and to her surprise, it was empty. The Dementor floated closer and waved its hand over it, and suddenly it filled with a host of abstract measurements in different materials, most of which Malkin recognized as belonging to an 11 year old boy.

Unknown to most, boggarts being shapeshifters actually have very good dimensional senses. Given that he had seen Harry before and knew how to shapshift into him, he was able to reproduce all of Harry's measurements off hand.

"I can get these done in about three hours." Said Madam Malkin bravely.

The Dementor slowly shook its head twice, and held up two fingers. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew a sack full of galleons. Of course it was precounted but Jerry wasn't going to tell her that.

"All of this for two hours?" Said Madam Malkin, a bit intimidated.

Jerry nodded slowly and tossed the sack down. He left the shop howling with laughter, or the Dementor version at least.

He then went over to do the rest of his shopping, getting a nice snack from the rest of the shopper's terror and then making his floaty way to Ollivanders when he was done.

Meanwhile, in Knockturn Alley...

"Hello Mr. Borgin"

"Who are you?" Borgin asked from his position behind the counter of the most infamous dark-arts store in Knockturn. "Little boy, if you've come here to harrass me on some sort of dare, I will call over some of my friends and let them have their way with you. You may find that hags can be rather unpleasant if you aren't friends with them."

"I am a paying costumer. I will not leave. I need all the books on Necromancy and Soul Magic that I do not currantly own." Said Harry, a cold light entering his eyes.

He tilted in such a way that his pin caught the light and gleamed. Mr. Borgin, who had been on the verge of drawing his wand, froze and looked like a cornered animal.

"Eh, let me find those for you. Do you also want the ones from the back?" He asked in his normal, greasy salesman voice.

"Yes. Also, I would like that sword there. How much does it cost?" Harry asked, captivated by the white metal.

"Ah, that is a masterpiece of enchantment right there. A true wizard's weapon, if ever they was one. Unlike those foolish kids, asking for some Muggle Japanese Katana or what ever it is. Morons." Grumbled Mr. Borgin.

"What is her name?" Harry asked softly.

"That weapons name is_ Clementia Ultima._ It's Latin, and it means 'final mercy' roughly. It is a medieval styled wizarding falchion. It has the standard enchantments such as an Eversharp and several durability enchantments, as well as a couple self repairing magics. It is truely a contradiction, as it has incredible dark magic for a light purposed sword." Said Borgin

"The special enchantments are very unique however. The blade is a magical conductor so it can be used as a focus, and the blade itself feeds off of blood and life. So if you kill someone, it becomes stronger. But what gives it it's name are the enchantments that make it white. It has an enchantment to make it cut through anything organic without resistance. Flesh, bone etc. It also has a combination of a targeted Notice-Me-Not spell and a powerful anesthesia spell. If you are cut by this, you will feel no pain and you will not notice the wound until you have stopped fighting and are looking at it. But what takes the cake, is that some sneaky basterd enchanted this with the King Fisher curse." Said Borgin excitedly.

"What does that curse do?" Asked Harry.

"There is a muggle tale about it. Basically the King Fisher was wounded by a holy weapon of God, and for the next 30 years, he stayed in his tower, with his daughters treating his wound. It never healed, and gushed blood for those 30 years straight. Similarly, with this blade, the wounds it makes will never heal. By magic or by nature. If they attempt to cut off the cursed part, the curse would transfer itself to the new wound. It may only be healed by the blades wielder, and by using the blade itself. Thats why the blade is so dangerous. You cut chop off a mans foot with this and they might never know except by the difference in legnth between the legs. The wound would never heal, yet you would never feel pain from it. It is a weapon for mercy-killing, primarily, but it is perfect for assasination, and fighting in a battle of attrition. One cut that the enemy will not notice, and they will simply fight until they die." Finished Borgin.

Harry conjured some auric gauntlets on his hands, filling the air with the scent of Chlorine. He picked up the_ Clementia Ultima_ with both hands. It was long, about three feet and some inches, and the blade was sharp. The metal was white, a gleaming pure color that belied its bloody nature. The hilt was faintly Spanish in design, with a metal cupped crossguard protecting the fingers, and elaborate designs on it. It was curved, not like a Katana, but with a thin width and elegance to it that suggested the European influence. The entire front length was sharpened with the back legnth dull, and a rather sharp point at the end that suggested that it was made for slashing and stabbing. On the back side of the curve facing Harry, near the point, there was an inward facing hook, presumably for disarming the opponent and for doing more damage with a stab. Harry shuddered to think of the incredible damage the hook coupled with the no resistance charm could do.

"I'll take it."

Mr. Borgin only smiled that creepy smile.

"Of course Mr..."

"Feuersturm"

Once Harry was done in Knockturn with his shopping for items of evil, he exited into Diagon and began walking over to Ollivanders.

He smirked at the people keeping a distance from Jerry in his Dementor form, hovering outside the door. He nodded Jerry, who nodded back, and mentally said "_The people in this Alley were terrified of me. They gave me huge discounts to try to get me to leave as soon as possible and I went to the front of the line every time. It was amazing. And filling. The sheeple were funny and I got a huge laugh at the one with the balls to try to send a Patronus at me. I was giggling the whole time."_

_"I am sure that the Goblins found it rather funny too. They looked like they needed some humor after I scared them myself." _said Harry mentally.

Jerry let out a creaking death-rattle of amusement.

They both walked inside, with Jerry transforming back into G-Man.

They looked around the seemingly empty shop.

"Mr. Potter, here to retrieve your wand I believe." Said a pale old man with pale bulbous were almost luminous... No the creepy old man did not have glowing eyes. Harry refused to accept it and thus ignored it.

"I will be needing a second wand." Harry said determinedly.

"Might I see the first? It would aid me greatly in my search." Said the old man.

Warily, Harry handed over the wand given to him by Marethyu.

"This is not one of my creations. Oh my, I do hope you know what is in this wand child. It is...dangerous to day the least." Said a wary Ollivander.

"The wood was willingly given, and the core was rightfully taken." Said a interested Harry.

"Interesting...then I believe you know who it is granted you such a wand?" Asked Ollivander.

"Indeed. He is my patron." Said Harry.

"Indeed. Then I believe I might know some of your quest. This wand, shall aid you in it." Said Mr. Ollivander after sending a sharp searching look.

Ollivander handled the wand delicately, as if it were a newborn child. He took the black wood, and slowly stroked one long, yellow fingernail down it, from tip to hilt. The wand came alive in his hands, whisperings abounding with faint voices and ethereal singing, only just out of earshot.

"You have given an old man much pleasure by holding such a creation. In return for the knowledge you have given me, I will give you knowledge. Be sure to keep it to yourself." Ollivander said warningly. Harry nodded.

"It is true, that I have always said that the wand chooses the wizard. However, this is only partially true. Wands are sentient. They do not think as you and I, but they think all the same. Even now, they whisper to each other. Can you hear it?" Said Ollivander.

Harry strived with his ears, but could not hear anything. He then searched with his aura and his core but could not feel anything. But something was there. Just like a person just out of view, he knew that something was there though he couldn't sense it. It was perhaps the aura of the little shop. Not Dee's aura, but one beyond comprehension, as mysterious as life and death. It was an aura of power lying hidden, of secret knowledge and old magic. It was the quiet and stillness of being alone in meditation. It was a shop, but it was so much more.

"Ah, you do hear it. Perhaps you do not understand yet, but you do not have to. It is only the first step to understanding a magic beyond what you know. I say the wand chooses the wizard, but they would all choose you, and your potential. However only one of them has a claim to you, for its brother had a claim on your brother. Perhaps wands have prophecies themselves for I know that you will only truely own three wands, and I am honored to have made the wand that will choose you." Ollivander walked to the back and pulled out a dusty old box with gold curls on it.

"Eleven inches, holly, nice and supple. A phoenix feather willingly given. And brother to the wand of the Dark Lord Voldemort. This wand shall choose you, Harry Potter, and in doing so it will learn from you, and you from it, and you will defend each other through life and death. Take it."

Harry took it, and a burst of warmth shot through his body, rejoicing in phoenix song and warming his blood, celebrating Life and Light, and everything good in the world. Harry for a moment for got everything, his dark magic, his aura, his necromancy, and instead focused on the hidden power and knowledge being given to him. For but a moment, he felt as if the sun were rising and stripping the mystery away from the tiny shop. For a moment, his aura was stripped away and replaced with the rejoicing fires of the phoenix. For but a moment, he understood his wand. A window opened and the whispers were intelligible, speaking of lost magics, and lore, telling stories of good and evil and hope. Every single wand spoke to him for a moment and told him what they knew. And Garrick Ollivander stood before him, all mystery stripped away. He understood Life and Death.

But all good things must come to an end, and the window shut. The whisperings were unintelligible again and the aura of mystery reasserted itself. The knowledge the wands had given him faded away, indistinct, as if in a dream. But his holly wand remained, singing to him softly, murmering phoenix song in his ear about the power of Life. And the counterpart, whispered to him quietly about Death and age. An endless cycle.

Suddenly, Harry felt the impulse to repay this gift. He would share his own magic. He began chanting.

"_Ignis Fax Ardor Flamma"_

_"Lumen Lychinus Candor Fulgor"_

_"Incendium Incaendium Combustio Flagrantia"_

_"ARDEO FERVEO TORREO EXTERMINO"_

_** "SOL INVICTUS"**_

He shouted the last incantation. And from the holly wand that he was holding, he again felt the vibrations coming from it. Phoenix song was singing in his ears and hope, cheer, happiness and all positive emotions began ringing out in bursts of white light, laced with phoenix flame and happiness. The sphere of Gubraithian fire on his chest positively glowed and the essence of sunlight and all its meanings burst out of Harry's wand. The light repelled the dark and rejected it, touching each wand in the tiny store until one could hear the happiness of the wands shivering and vibrating in gratitude, creating a rustling through the shop. Slowly, Harry let the light die away and simply stood staring at his wand.

"And that, Harry Potter is the second step." Whispered Ollivander with a faint smile on his face."Perhaps you can become a wandmaker, once you have fulfilled your purpose. You will always have a place here. The wand is free of charge, for granting me the wonder of seeing a new wandmaker emerge, and a prophecy fulfilled."

Harry smiled and put 7 Galleons on the counter.

"You do not owe me anything, ." he said. As he was about to step outside the door he said, "We are even, for granting me the wonder of meeting an Ancient." He left.

Ollivander laughed quietly to himself, alone again. "Will wonders never cease? That child shall go far. I shall enjoying hearing the tales of his exploits from the other wands." Mr. Ollivander walked into the back room.

**-AN **

**Well damn that was an annoying chapter to finish. I did love putting in the wand scene. Special shoutout to reptoholic for very many reviews. It was also pointed out to me that some people reading this may not understand the story, as they have not read the alchemist series. Seeing the list of fanfictions, i would have to agree. Im like top of the charts in hp/alchemist crossovers and like number 5 in all alchemist crossovers. Either im doing something right, or theres not enough fanfics of it (hint hint). Anyway so I will try to give you a brief synoposis of the universe. Basically back thousands of years ago, the elders rulered the earth from atlantis. Atlantis fell, posoisoning the air and elders and they mutated a bit. Monsters are real. Elders are the gods of humanity with incredible auric magic. Dark elders are those guys who still want to rule the earth and enslave and eat the humans. Just Elders are nuetral or prohuman. They basically fight in little proxy battles since the race is dying out, using humans who have been granted immortality. Dee is evil even though he is awesome. Flamels are 'good', as they try to keep the earth from enslavement. They also keep safe the Book of Abraham the Mage which is like the ultimate spellbook that gibes them their immortality and also incidentally has spells to allow the Dark Elders to enslave the earth. Go figure. Unfortunately, Flamel is also like our beloved headmaster in that he sacrifices boys and girls trying to fulfill a prophecy to save the world. However the Flamels are less assholish than Dumbledore and thus come off a bit better. Dee works for the Dark Elder overlords who have him search for the Book or die. Dee's frenemy Machiavelli is awesome but also works for the dark elders. Gilgamesh was an insane neutral. Elders are gods, Ancients are like super wizards, Archons are like semi-magical super technology oriented aliens and Earthlords are ugly assholes with technology and magic. All are semi-immortal. If you need more info, go to the wiki. Also some parts of it may have been more elegently explained in my chapter, lesson with a hole. I hope that vaguely clears some stuff up. End of the world scenario doesnt happen in this story as this is pre-alchemist and Marethyu is only here because of some really fucked up time travel. Anyway, favorite, review, follow you know the drill. If you review i might give you a shoutout. Also give me suggestions of where to steer this barge, im getting lost.**


End file.
